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popquizhot-shot · 9 months

Text

Magic

Moon Boys x reader<3

summary: you were married to Jake and after the events of moonknight, the boys get to know of jake and of you. Steven adores you but Marc just sees you as a friend. Right?

A/N: okay the timeline is a bit wonky but here's what i thought while writing the fic. Jake dated you for a year and a half before putting a ring on it. And you've been married for three years. You met Steven and Marc a year ago and have been dating Steven for eight months. Marc became friends with you a month after meeting you. please comment and reblog if you liked it!

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

@jake-g-lockley

Marc was a lot of things. Pig-headed, stubborn, horrible at communication, a fighter. But he wasn't arrogant He could admit it when he didn't know something.

But right now he knew one thing and one thing only, that Jake was a prime idiot.

Marc stayed in the background when Jake was fronting around you, most of the time. Not always, of course. He wasn't a perv and one to to intrude between a husband and a wife. But he knew you. So did Steven, and you knew them.

He'd considered you his friend. Maybe one of his best, just months after meeting you. You and him shared many a night after Jake's missions talking and watching movies, when your husband was knocked out. You made him fall in love with chai, something that knocked Steven's socks off and he'd taught you the basics of baseball so you weren't clueless when you watched baseball with him.

It wasn't always so nice.

"You're married?!"

"Yeah, what's your problem with that?" Jake had become defensive, he wouldn't let Marc or Steven breathe a single ill word towards you.

"No, it's no problem at all, pal." Marc seethed, outraged, "except for the fact that I was married to Layla! God what if she almost say you when we were married? No wonder it ended!"

"Fuck off, man. You know full well why your marriage didn't work out with Layla. And unlike her, I told my lady fucking everything. She knows everything, from the cave to the sarcophagus. So she knew what to do and what to be careful of, including you. So don't blame my marriage for the reason yours didn't work out."

This was when Steven had interjected, he was unsurprisingly on Jake's side.

"He's right, Marc. If his wife knows everything then you can't blame him, and it's honestly rather mean and unfair of you to be angry at someone you haven't even met."

It took a few hours for Marc to calm down, and actually, apologise to Jake.

Hesitantly, Jake offered, "Y'know, if you want you can meet her. She practically knows everything about you and uh, Steven's most probably seen her around. She goes to the museum every week."

"Wait a minute! That lady with the Van Gogh tote bag?"

"Yup."

"Oh wow! She's really sweet, and beautiful! Hell, mate. You scored."

Jake had to smile at that, he knew he scored with you. For the longest time he felt like you were too good for him and that someone as kind, clever, intelligent and beautiful as you shouldn't have had to settle for someone like him. But you'd kiss away every ill thought he had about himself and reassure him. Communication was a very, very vital and important part of the relationship and you had helped him learn that it wasn't selfish to voice his thoughts. Especially because he put everyone's needs before his for so long.

"I know, man."

Steven had readily agreed to front and meet you, and Marc was okay with being co-conscious during the interaction as well. So on one fine day, Jake had brought them to the house he considered his home. He worked to contribute to it's rent, and buy things for it and for you. It was home, after all. You were his home.

Marc didn't know what to expect but when Jake had stepped in and hung his jacket on the stand and taken his shoes off, footsteps could be heard running from the main bedroom and he saw you running straight into Jake's arms. Jake laughed wildly, picking you up and twirling you around, much to your delight as you kissed the life out of him.

When he put you down, he could get a clear glimpse of you. Your hair was messy and your t-shirt was rumpled. And when he saw you smile he knew why Jake had fallen in love with you. Why Steven thought you were beautiful and sweet. Verything about you screamed, home.

Your greeting to Jake threw both the boys off, "Who the fuck are you?"

Jake smirked, "The fuck you mean, ma?"

"I mean, who." you poked him once, "are." twice, "you?" thrice and Jake started giggling. Fucking giggling like some little schoolgirl. You laughed too, and hugged him tight.

"Hey, baby." he kissed your forehead and you smiled.

"Hi." you kissed his nose.

"I have two guys who'd like to meet you."he raised his eyebrows.

Your jaw dropped a little, "For real? Wait, you're being serious, you're not screwing with me?"

"Why would I screw with you, when I could just screw you?"

The men in his head and you all let out a simultaneous groan.

Steven met you first, and it went swell, you'd both bonded over history and literature. And a love for Taylor Swift. But that was a secret. You liked him a lot and he positively adored you.

Marc, on the other hand, was much more closed off, he'd be polite, but he'd be curt as well. A combination you didn't know was possible.

After a few weeks of trying to bond with him, resulting in almost a small meltdown. It had taken Jake being knocked out after a mission and being too tired to eat to actually get him to talk to you over a meal.

It was one of the best things he'd eaten in his goddamn life and the groan he'd let out after the first bite brought a laugh out of you.

So yes, Marc would consider you one of his best friends. Steven and you had started going out with each other a few months ago and it was going so well.

But not Marc.

Because he didn't like you like that.

Of course not, you were his friend.

You were his friend who made him laugh because you had the same dark sense of humour. You hugged him when he needed one but was too uptight to ask you. You, who googled the Cubs and learnt everything you could about them just so you could talk to him as well, the way you talked to Steven about Jane Austen and the Indus Valley.

He didn't know when it became something more to him.

And he didn't see how you'd look him at him when he laughed, or when he was focused on the TV, or when he made you tea the way you liked it, Jake had taught him how to do that.

No, to him, you were just his best friend.

And you were currently crying your eyes out because Jake and you had gotten into a huge fight. He'd missed your anniversary because of a mission and he was working with Hathor's avatar. He failed to mention the part where he was forced to pretend they were a thing to prevent being caught and you'd caught him smelling of her perfume and gotten rightfully furious.

Not because of her, but because he didn't tell you that it had been happening for a few days. That the week he'd spent away from you, he'd had to pretend he was someone else's and he was too scared to tell you. That's why you were mad, because you thought he didn't trust you.

You'd raised your voice as he turned his back on you and he turned around, face contorted in rage. Steven tried calming him down as he stalked over to you. You stood your ground, Jake would never lay a hand on you. You knew that. But it was what he said, that broke you.

"You're being a fucking nuisance. Instead of trying to understand, you're being more of a burden by finding shit to get mad at. Grow the fuck up."

That prime ass had the audacity to call you a burden. A nuisance.

And then he had the fucking nerve to leave and complete his mission and give control to Marc. Steven had chewed the fuck out of him and Marc would have loved to as well, but he needed to see you. See if you were okay.

As soon as he stepped in, he saw you on the sofa, rapidly wiping your tears away. You sagged again when you knew it was him. Somehow you always knew.

He furrowed his eyebrows at your disheveled state. Your eyes were swollen and wet with tears and you were breathing very heavily and in quick spurts.

"What do you need?" Marc asked you, sitting down beside you.

"C-can I have" you coughed, "a hug, Marc?" you said in a small voice, looking away.

Marc immediately moved to hug you close. Shushing you when you began to cry again.

What hurt was that he knew, and Jake knew, and Steven knew that you hated being a burden or an inconvenience to anyone. And today, the one man you trusted the most in this world had made you feel like that. And he couldn't even apologize.

'Jake you fucking idiot.' he rocked you a little, 'you better come out and fix this. she may be our friend but this is because of you, fix this.'

Jake remained silent in the reflection of the mirror next to the door. He looked wrecked at seeing you sob, and tears were falling down his own eyes.

'Mate.' Steven spoke up, he sounded mad, 'You made our girl cry. Stop being a fucking coward and fix this!'

When he was met with silence, Steven seethed, 'Marc, gimme the body.'

You knew exactly when it was Steven hugging you, and you kissed his cheek and breathed him in.

"Oh, love." he tried to comfort you, "I'm sorry. You're not a burden, I promise you." he kissed your forehead.

"I know that, Steven. I know I'm not a burden to you. I'm scared I'm becoming one to him. He doesn't even want to look at me!" you sniffed.

Steven glared at Jake in the mirror, who was wiping away his own tears.

Steven and Marc knew why Jake was so worked up. They knew that whoever Jake and Hathor's avatar was after called their bluff. They knew that those people had found the woman's partner and Jake was terrified for you and he couldn't even tell you because he never, ever wanted to be the reason for any feeling you had that wasn't bliss, happiness, content, or pleasure. And because he was sure he could find those assholes and beat the living shit out of them for even thinking of harming you.

But it wasn't their place to tell you, that much was apparent. Jake dug his grave, and then jumped into it. He had to crawl out of it on his own now.

"I just want to be someone he's happy to be with." you whisper and that's when Jake straightened up, heartbroken.

"Give me the body, hermano."

"All yours."

Only Jake scrunched the back of your shirts when he hugged you and you moved to hug him tightly as he whispered apologies in your ear.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry I made you feel like you were a burden and that I was anything but fucking delighted to be with you." he kissed your nose and then told you everything. Looking away because he was scared.

"I didn't tell you at first because I didn't want to just say that I had to pretend I was dating someone else and then fuck off for a week. I made a mistake in assuming that'd you get mad and it's because if I was in your place, I would be. But you're stronger than me, tesoro, and I failed to see that and I'm so sorry."

"Baby, I forgive you." you replied and he breathed out a sigh of relief, "But please, don't keep stuff like this in, okay? You can trust me, you know that."

He nodded fiercely and then he kissed you. Noses nudging and lips parting as he breathed you in like you were his lifeline, and he yours. He cupped your face and held you tight against him and when he pulled away you smiled at him, your eyes shining.

Steven fronted again with a little smile and you kissed him lovingly with a whispered 'i love you'. He just winked at you and kissed the back of your hand and then your forehead again before Jake took back control and carried you to the bed, kissing you deeply all the way.

----

Marc was fine, no he just needed a glass of water. He'd carefully rolled off the bed, thankful that he was at least wearing sweatpants and padded to the kitchen.

He should have known that you were a light sleeper.

"Marc." you began, your voice raspy.

He hummed in reply and held out his glass to you. You accepted it and drank your fill, giving it back to him.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke up, "I thanked Steven for comforting me. But I didn't thank you." you cleared your throat, "Thank you, Marc." you said, sincerely, "You're one of my best friends."

Marc smiled at you. Actually smiled. And you smiled back and kept going, "And Jake and Steven know this and are okay with it so I-"

"You don't have to thank me, honey." he patted your shoulder, trying to conceal his tears as he looked away because god he was dumb. Dumb enough to realize now, that he loved you, "I'm glad I'm your friend."

To him, you were everything. You were sunrays and moonbeams and everything that he believed was magical as a boy. Everything he stopped believing in as he grew up. The first time you made him laugh and joined him he felt sure that magic existed after all, because what else could you be?

He tried walking past you but you held his hand and he froze, tears streaming down his cheeks.

You walked over to him and held his face in your hands. His eyes shut as you wipe away his tears. And he whimpered as you kissed his forehead.

"Marc. Open your eyes and look at me." you said softly.

He was terrified. That you'd seen past his mask and were going to let him down gently. Because to you, what could he be? Certainly nothing more than a friend.

"Sweetheart. Please."

When his eyes finally opened, they met yours.

"Marc. I fucking love you." you confessed and he let out a sob. Pulling you into a tight hug.

"I love you. God I love you so much, Sweetheart." he says into your hair, kissing all over your face, but not your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" you asked him, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

He nods and your hands travel to his locks and pull them lightly as you bring your lips to his own. Humming sweetly as he wraps his arm around you and licks into you.

Yes, he reasons yet again as you hold his face in your hands and smile at him, magic does exist. And it's in his arms. He loves it and so do the men in his head who cheer for him, albeit sleepily, looking at you lovingly.

And they'd never let you go.

#jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #jake lockley angst #marc spector angst #moon knight angst #moon knight #marvel cinematic universe #oscar isaac x reader

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januaryembrs · 4 months

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Any fluffy sweet Drabble about the moon boys 🫡

SWEET MORNINGS | Marc Spector x reader

description: the boys wake up to their girlfriend making breakfast, too bad she has no clue which boy is fronting that morning

length: 1.1k

warnings: representation of DID, Marc's slight self loathing (it's Marc idk what to say). Writer has never experienced DID so I am going off the show

He woke up peacefully, which had once been a fleeting dream in itself for a man like him. He’d spent years jumping at the smallest sounds, flinching at voices and footsteps, ready to be up and out of bed within a moment’s notice. Yet, when his eyes slowly blinked out of the reverie of sleep, he heard her humming along to the radio, already half way through the song, heard her socks sliding against the kitchen floor as she whirled around the stove, and the smell of pancakes and coffee hit him with full force.

His lips drew into a smile before he even knew it, and he was drawing the covers back, her side of the bed not entirely freezing which told him she’d been up about twenty minutes. Marc grabbed his shirt off the floor, the same one Steven used to sprinkle with sand when he had no idea about their coexistence, only two years later, it was scrubbed clean, even with a pretty, knit rug you’d bought from your apartment when you moved in.

Tugging it over his head, he padded into the living room, where he could already see your form where you danced around the kitchen, entirely unaware of his approach. He’d been trying to teach you self defence, said you needed to learn to have a sixth sense when it came to people on your tail, because he had a tendency to worry about you more than Steven and Jake did. But maybe it was the fact he had naturally light footsteps, or maybe it was the fact you knew in the comfort of your home he would always be there to protect you, either way your guard was entirely down by the time he swooped behind you, grabbing you in a warm, soft hug, pressing kisses down the side of your bare neck and onto your shoulder.

“Morning,” His voice was muddied with sleep, and he cleared his throat, hoping to take some of the husk out of it despite the fact you whirled around to look at him with something that told him just what you thought of his rumbling voice.

“Morning, honey,” You said, pressing a small kiss to his lips, your hand still on the frying pan that he now realised had been filled with mini-chocolate pancakes, the batter sizzling and cracking in the oil, “You hungry?”

Marc wasn’t really listening as he gave a ‘mhm’, too busy burying his nose in the crook of your neck and jaw, kissing lazily there as he tightened his grip on your waist.

His gaze fell on the counter after a moment, the blueberry porridge Steven went crazy for already dished up in the little purple bowl you’d painted for him for their birthday, whirled of steam coming off the breakfast that was slowly turning a cornflour colour with the chopped fruit swirling in the centre.

“Sorry, baby, I think Steven’s still sleeping, I can try ask him-” He started as you used a spatula to quickly flip the pancakes, their underside a golden brown that made his mouth water.

“Oh, don’t worry. I wasn’t sure who was joining me for breakfast, or if all of you wanted something, so I made a bit of everything,” You said, smiling at him as you turned the gas down and spun in his arms, batting your eyes at him with an innocent smile, “Chocolate pancakes for you, blueberry oatmeal for Steven and a black coffee for Jake since I know you guys got mad last time we had bacon together,”

“What a woman,” Jake’s voice was a growl of appreciation that Marc couldn’t help but agree with, and he was quick to lean in to steal a handful of long kisses, grabbing the soft plush of your hips with feather light fingers and pulling you towards him, “Ay, Romeo, your pancakes are burning.”

You sprung away from him like you’d heard the alter yourself, your eyes wide in surprise, “Your pancakes are burning!”

He heard Jake chuckle and a smile made it’s way onto his face as you fretted over whether the brown was where the chocolate had melted or if the mix had singed, but Marc thought he might just eat anything you gave him because you poured so much love and affection into it he couldn't help but think it tasted divine.

“Marc, I’m sorry, I know we have the no hogging the body rule and I got to have her all last night, but please let me have just a few bites- o-or atleast ask her to save it for me, that stuff smells delicious,” Steven seemed to be wide awake and kicking at the sight of food, and Marc sighed, reaching out with one hand to swoop your hair off your neck as he kissed the very top of your spine.

“Steven asks if we could save him the blueberry oatmeal since it’s my turn to spend time with you,” He said gently, and he feels you smile before he sees it, the way your cheeks crinkle and pull tightly.

“Of course I can, baby, I’ll put it in the fridge,” You said, despite the fact the man was inside the body, scooping the little circular goods onto two plates for both of you. Turning to set the plates on the table, Marc grabbed two glasses out of the cabinet, opening the fridge door with a rattle as the magnets clasped pictures of the two of you to the cooler.

“Orange or apple juice?” He asked, pulling the former out of the side drawer for himself.

“Orange, please,” You replied politely, grabbing some cutlery out and laying it beside his plate.

The two of you sat down finally, Marc sliding the filled glass over to your half of the dinner table and allowing himself to just watch as you picked up your knife and fork, digging into the chocolatey breakfast before it went cold.

He never deserved any of this, the light touches and the breakfasts and the devotion and the way you put him on a pedestal. But sitting in the slow hum of the radio, the most obscure top hundreds playlist he thinks you could have chosen, he bit into his pancake, his tongue exploding with sugary yumminess, as you told him the weird dream you’d had about him becoming some kind of half horse, centaur type man and how you wondered if he would wear jeans on the front legs, the back legs, or if you would have to have custom, four legged bottoms made for him.

The two of you laughed, because he didn’t quite understand what had gotten him so lucky as to end up with you. He could get used to all this.

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader #moonknight x reader #oscar isaac x reader

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angel-of-the-moons · 11 months

Note

Need Steven with a freak. Let’s say he’s been dating this girl for a while and he’s ready to take it to the next step. He’s super worried he’ll make you all uncomfortable and stuff when he asks but the next thing he know he’s being ridden till the break of dawn

(I’m ovulating I am so sorry-)

OMG SAMESIES AND I. AM. ✨FERAL✨ RN

Please

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Smut, just smut af, protected sex (implant), oral sex (m!receiving) creampie, overstimulation

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This lil dress here is what I had in mind for the outfit in the start. (I'm a sucker for sunflower patterns)

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

It had to be tonight. He just couldn't take it anymore. None of them could.

But Steven was the worst about his urges. He felt awkward and worried it would chase you away, the first girlfriend he ever got to finally have; all the others didn't understand his... Problems.

Problems he later learned were triggered by Marc (and in some cases, Jake), but you? You took them in stride, like a duck to water.

The moment he first saw you, his breath had been sucked right out of him. Marc and Jake went dead silent, too.

It was a gloomy, dreary day; the rain coming down in heavy droplets, casting a grim light down on the London streets.

But there you were, walking around the museum, looking at exhibits and scribbling notes in your tiny notebook with oh, so many post-its sticking out, fattening the tiny book until it looked close to bursting.

You were the only ray of sunshine on that day, your yellow dress that hugged your body just right, little sunflowers covering the fabric. Your hair done just the right way to accentuate your face as your eyes studied each artifact and bauble you saw.

To say the boys were instantly smitten was an understatement.

It took weeks of bumping into you to work up the courage to talk to you, and it was only when you came in to buy a rather dinky looking scarab plushie in the gift shop. It's this conversation where he finds out you're in school, trying to become an archaeologist and historian.

Steven's dream girl, and he had hearts in his eyes at every word you spoke.

He couldn't help but blubber out a request for a date, and you agreed.

The rest... History in the making.

You'd been dating for two months, but already he could feel the pull of urges he didn't necessarily indulge in often.

Sure, he, Marc and Jake could indulge in it themselves, trying to take the edge off. But sometimes it felt like the more he indulged in it, the more intense his fantasies got.

He simply couldn't keep tugging his cock for momentary relief anymore, imagining it was your soft hand, your mouth, your tits or something else wrapped around his cock that had him practically drooling: your sweet cunt.

But tonight? Tonight was the night. He was afraid to bring it up because he didn't want you to feel like he was moving too fast; and he could barely function when you admitted you were a little surprised he waited so long. (And teased him a little for how sometimes he just wasn't stealthy when trying to conceal a surprise boner.)

You'd told him that you thought about him too, and that you were more than willing to let him indulge.

But it was from there that you found out that Steven had never actually been intimate with anyone. Jake and Marc had, yes. But poor Steven has just never had the luck.

And that's how Steven found himself in this precarious situation, you on your knees, your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock as you bobbed your head so sweetly, tongue laving around his length, hollowing and sucking your cheeks with every drag, tracing the vein that ran up the side of him.

He couldn't stop with the babbling praises, the sweet petting in your hair.

Honestly, if you knew he was this weak? You'd have jumped his bones a lot sooner. Probably after the fourth or fifth date. It was rare you found someone who was intellectually a joy to talk to (not excluding Marc and Jake) who was so handsome and sweet to you.

One hand was thrust down into your panties, playing with yourself, dress hiked up so you could have better access as you continue sucking him off, the lewd sounds coming from both of you more suited to a pornography than the quiet air of his flat.

You could feel your orgasm cresting already, but you knew that you didn't want to just cum on your fingers like you had so many times before, you wanted to feel Steven inside of you and god did you want to drain him for everything he had.

Steven made a whine, babbling your name again.

"L-luv, I'm--I'm gonna--ugh--"

He couldn't even get the sentence out before you felt him spill down your throat, his hips bucking suddenly you gagged, carefully adjusting so you didn't choke as he pumped his load into your greedy mouth.

Well... you weren't surprised he didn't last very long...

He immediately started rattling off apologies that had you giggling.

God damn, you were going to enjoy draining him. Maybe Marc and Jake, too.

The blush that spread up to his ears made him look absolutely adorable.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" He stammered out, covering his face. "In--in your mouth, I--"

With the fluid grace of a cat you climb into his lap, straddling him.

You cup his cheeks and kiss him softly, before pulling away.

"You're alright." You assure him, peppering his adorable face with kisses.

It's when he squeezes your thighs and ruts up into you, his face buried in your neck that you realize he's still hard.

You bite your lip and kiss his ear.

"Steven, do you want me to ride you?"

"Ohgodsyesplease." He breathes out on a whimper.

You hastily line his cock up with your hole and sink down, taking him in inch by delicious inch until you're stretched beautifully around him.

You tip your head back with a groan. He certainly had girth for days, that was for sure.

"I'm... Already close. Can you help me?" You say, giving him a sweet pout that makes his heart jump up into his throat.

"Y-yes, I can--"

The way he keeps cutting himself off makes you want to cuddle him and cover him with kisses, but at the same time fuck him until his legs go numb.

Maybe you'd do the former later.

You pull his fingers into your mouth and he makes a soft moan when you suck his fingers, swirling your tongue around his calloused digits until you deemed them wet enough.

Then, you guide his hand down your body to your throbbing clit, and show him the rhythm that'd work for you best.

"Try to keep it in time with me, m'kay?" You groan, grinding down on him in one slow, languid movement.

His eyes roll back, but he nods and keeps his fingers over your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves in time with each downward stroke of your hips.

Every bit of him had you aching, from his electric touches to his fat cock spearing you open and fucking your weeping pussy in the best way possible, you kicked yourself mentally again for not bringing up sex sooner.

Steven's cock felt far better inside of you than your fingers or your toys at home. He felt hot, he felt real. And real is what you'd been lacking lately.

Whatever Steven would give you, you planned on taking happily. You would--

Your eyes flutter open when Steven suddenly arches his back and hits you deeper than you expected him to; opening your mouth in a quiet cry, no sound escapes as your orgasm hits you and Steven continues swiping at your clit, fucking you from below as you shudder and collapse on top of him as he continues breathing on the hot embers of your orgasm to keep it going for as long as possible.

"Please." He whines in your ear.

"Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease."

"In-inside--" You whimper, biting down on his shoulder, earning a toe-curling moan from him.

"You can do it inside."

He grits his teeth and let's out a hissing cry, veins popping in his neck and forehead as he fucks his spend up into you, his orgasm burning and flaying his nerves raw as he pumps you full.

He drops back onto the cushions of the couch and sofa, breathing hard, desperately trying to drag oxygen back into his lungs.

Reality however, is a cruel mistress and he looks down at where you two were connected.

"Oh, b-bloody hell. I--I didn't--"

"Relax, hon." You giggle, leaning back with one hand braced on one of his knees for support, your other hand trailing lazily down to where his cock still split you open, his cum leaking out around his length. The sight of you sent a dizzying spiral through him.

"I'm safe, promise. I have an implant. Still good for another three years."

The thought that he could keep doing this for three years--

His mind went blank when you grind down on his lap, feeling his cock stir to life despite the fact he was now exhausted.

"L-luv, I... I don't think I can..." He panted desperately.

Your brace your hands on his chest and start bouncing on his lap, grinning wickedly the whole time.

"I'm gonna keep going until I drain you dry, sweetheart. Get comfortable."

The gulp he made was audible in the space you shared, as was the sinful slap of skin on skin.

#answered #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader

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spctrsgf · 1 year

Text

morning banter

summary: something about you and marc? he wakes up early, and you most certainly do not.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: language, my shitty spanish (i’m trying okay)

a/n: took a quick break from b+h for a lil marc spector drabble!!! hope you all enjoy

Es tan temprano para esta mierda, Marc. Jake’s annoyed Spanish drawl smacks into the side of Marc's head. The combination of his drowsy, slow mind and that Marc knew next to no spanish caused the said man’s eyebrows to crinkle. “What the fuck did you just say?” He can barely hear his own voice, but he knows Jake can.

Don’t worry about it.

“Jake.”

Marc. Only Jake would pitch up his name in a high voice: it’s a mimic.

“Hey! I don’t sound like that.”

Yeah you do.

“No, I don’t! Back me up, Steven.”

Don’t bring me into this.

C’mon, Stevie— Jake cuts off abruptly, probably the doing of Steven.

“Jake,” Marc resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me what you said.”

Go to sleep, puta.

“Okay, I know that one,” Marc hisses, toiling you in closer to him. “Rude.”

You deserved it.

“You wanna know what you deserve?”

Oh, yeah, Jake taunts. What’s that?

“A fucking pun–”

His voice goes legato as soon as he senses you moving, causing him to fall silent. You curl tighter into a ball, spiraling the covers more into your fists and tucking them again beneath your chin. Jake, by some miracle, also goes quiet, as if somehow his words could expel themselves out of Marc’s mouth and to your ears.

But, the soft exhales are the only noise you left out, and if you heard them, you didn’t show it. Marc’s shoulders roll back from where they were hunched, surely Steven’s gentle gesture to the position he hadn’t even realized he’d been in.

Would it kill the two of you to just be nice to each other? The Brit muses.

Absolutely. Jake’s response is automatic.

“One hundred percent true.” Marc chimes in.

HAH! Steven ejects the exclamation in triumph. Now I got the two of you agreeing.

“Sure, whatever.”

Only time we agree is when you finesse us into it, hermano.

Marc slides his arm out from where it was wrapped around your waist to give the two a thumbs up in agreement with Jake, reluctantly.

Or, he tried to.

“Noooooo…” You groan groggily, tightening your hold.

Marc freezes. “Baby?”

“Mmmmm?”

“I- I didn’t know you were aware.”

“Well,” you snuggle closer into his chest, his warm embrace. “You ‘n Steven ‘n Jake aren’t exactly quiet when you argue.”

He sighs, guilt pooling in his stomach. “Listen, ‘m sorry. You know how we can be.”

“Yeah, I do. And I love you all,” you reach back, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. “But I also love my beauty sleep.”

“You don’t need to sleep to be beautiful.” He ducks his head to place a featherlight kiss to your neck, savoring the sigh you let out in return.

“You’re sweet, but we both know that’s not true.”

“Do we?”

“Mhm,” you turn, nudging Marc’s arms off of you as you face him. “‘M a menace without it.”

“That’s true,” he chuckles when you slap his arm, letting out an effortlessly beautiful smile. “But it’s nothing a cup of nice, warm coffee can’t solve.”

You giggle softly. “That’s true.”

“C’mon, sleepyhead,” He moves to slide you both out from under the covers. “Let’s get going.”

“Nope.” You let him go, rolling to burrito yourself in the covers again.

“Nope?” He inquires, rounding the bed to stand over you.

“Nope.”

His shadow covers your shut eyelids and you know he’s bent over your face. “I’ll make you coffee to apologize for waking you up, baby, I promise.” You scrunch your nose. “Tempting, but no.”

“Not even because I’m asking you?”

“Not even if you were on your knees and begging.”

“Oh?” The sentence your half asleep brain had kindled clearly took him by surprise.

You huff, flipping over in the bed dramatically. “Go away, I’m tired.”

“What’s so great about this bed that I can’t give you, huh?”

“Well,” You take a deep breath, and some small, rational part of your brain tells you that maybe the spew of words about to come out of your mouth is what he wanted to happen all along. “The bed is warm. It’s cozy. The covers are just the right heaviness and just the right thickness to provide optimal warmth and the right amount of pressure to keep me sleeping like a bear in hibernation. ‘Nd my pillow is the right firmness, but has my desired amount of sink to put me out as soon as you turn off the light and wrap your arms around me. Even though that only happens sometimes.”

Marc huffs in frustration. “Hey!”

“Yeah, Marc, my bed is always here on time. It never goes anywhere, and the only life it’s saving is your sorry ass right now.”

“Uncalled for.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Thought you liked a bit of banter.”

“I like a kick or two,” He leans over and pulls your shoulders to level on the bed and your eyes to meet his own. “But not at eight in the fucking morning.”

“Neither do I,” You reach up, pulling his face in for a kiss.

He gives in almost immediately, setting a knee on either side of your legs and scooping his arms underneath your body to pull you up.

“Nuh uh,” you pull away and unwrap his arms, flopping back onto the bed. “Sleepy. Time to sleep.”

“You can't leave me hanging like that!”

You yawn, pulling the covers up to your chin again. “I can and I did.”

For a second, a naive, small second, you think he’s going to leave you be. Your brain relaxes, you feel yourself on the precipice of sleep, the hypnotic, rich swirl of unconsciousness sucking you deeper into its whirlpool. But then you feel the covers lift, and Marc’s— frighteningly cold— fingers are dancing along your sides to a tune you illustrate with laughs. You slap his hands away, reaching out towards the lure of sleep that now sneaks away to taint another victim.

“You ready to get out of bed now, sweets?”

You groan, turning to face him in defeat. “You fucker.”

He throws his arms mockingly. “What’d I do?”

“You manipulated me! I hate you.”

“I did no such thing. What are these accusations?”

“You knew I would get worked up,” you sit up in the bed now, and Marc shrinks ever so slightly under the weight of your deadly stare. “You knew that would wake me up.”

“Hey, let’s calm down–”

“You knew that if you pushed the right buttons, you would get what you wanted.”

Marc’s face is ghastly, and he looks two steps away from summoning his suit and flying away.

“I warned you earlier about this, Marc, were you listening?”

He nods frantically. “Of course–”

“I’m a menace when I get woken up early.” You launch off the bed, and you might as well be Moon Knight yourself with your accuracy.

The takeaway from this event? For Marc, it’s to never try waking you up before you’ve recharged fully, or to have some coffee made ahead of when he was to attempt it. For you, though?

It’s that Marc shrieks like a little girl.

translations (HELP I FORGOT):

es tan temprano para esta mierda - it’s too early for this shit

puta - bitch

i felt very fancy using these

#moon knight #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector imagine #steven grant imagine #jake lockley imagine #moon knight tv #marvel #marc spector fluff #marc spector x you #oscar issac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar issac x reader

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redeyerhaenyra · 1 year

Text

Sleeping Beauty

Summary: After having sex with Jake, you both fall asleep in your flat. Only, it's not Jake that wakes up, it's Steven.

Warnings: Hidden relationship, reader is mentioned having sex with Jake, jealousy on Steven's part, vaginal fingering, a sprinkling of dry humping, cunnilingus, Steven cums in his pants, fem reader, one use of (Y/N)

Notes: Debuting Steven onto my blog :) this fix was heavily inspired by @blue-beeeeeeery 's post

Wc: 1.9k

You’d been dating Jake for a while, having met him as your cab driver after a night out with your friends. In the time you’d been together, he’d opened up to you about his DID, and his alters; Marc and Steven. You hadn’t met them yet, and it seemed to be a little bit of a touchy subject for him, so you didn’t push it. Besides, you adored Jake, even if there were two other men living in his head, you were sure you could come to love them, too.

Despite not pushing it, you had asked why it was Jake wouldn’t introduce you to his alters, and he had told you that they were both… skittish, in a way. That you would meet them, that he wanted you to, but he worried to spring it on too soon. And who could blame him? Hearing that your alter had a partner you didn’t know about would understandably be perplexing at the very least. Though, it made you smile- Jake may have acted like a big, scary, cigarette smoking tough guy, but he really cared, especially about Steven. You’d gathered he was the “innocent little brother” of the group, the one to be looked after. He seemed so sweet, even when Jake would complain about him. And you knew one day you’d see him for yourself. Jake was naturally protective, over you and over his alters. It warmed your heart to know he was waiting for them to be ready to hear that they technically had a girlfriend they didn’t know about.

Besides, the reason he hadn’t told them when you had first met, is because they didn’t know he existed apparently. You had called him shy, and he had grumbled that he wasn’t, he was just fulfilling his role in the system. The protector, doing the dirty work for Khonshu when Marc couldn’t, and then slipping back into the shadows when it was done. It sounded lonely, you told him. It was, he replied, until he met you. Jake could be so romantic when he wanted to.

And so here you were, laying cuddled up to who you thought was Jake, the darkness outside told you it was still the early hours of the morning. You were only half awake anyway- fucking Jake always took something out of you. It was exhausting, in the best way.

You decided to stay like this, for a while. Jake normally woke up hours before you, kissing you goodbye and sending you a text later that hoped you “Had a good sleep, hermosa,” and so you relished the little extra time you had with him. It felt a little demeaning, for him at least, having to sneak in and out like he was a teenager, but you pushed through it, for Jake and his alters. Your eyes blinked back closed, willing yourself to not sleep too deeply, so that you might give him a proper goodbye when he left your flat.

The air was quiet, still. Peaceful. The only sounds were yours and his breathing. The warmth of him behind you, his arm curled just under your breasts lulled you to sleep once again. And meanwhile, as you fell back into sleep, someone else was rising from it. Though, it wasn’t Jake.

Steven blearily opened his eyes, and groaned. Despite having just woken up, his body felt tired… but in a good way. And he was spooning something soft.. and warm. His vision cleared- and he nearly jumped back in shock. There was a woman…. in his bed, but it wasn’t his bed, and this wasn’t his flat. He whimpered in shock as she moved against him, moaning as you stretched your arms above your head.

“You up already, papí?”

Papí… definitely Jake. Steven gulped. He knew his other alters were more experienced with women than he was, but this was just silly. His eyes raked over you, your form cuddled beneath the blankets, your hair sprawled about the pillow like a halo. Gosh.. you were pretty. He found himself thinking that Jake had good taste. He shook his head free of the thought- he needed to leave as fast as he could. As much as Jake cared about his alters, so did Steven. And thought he’d been wishing for a girlfriend for forever, but he wouldn’t go as far as to turn off one of Jake’s “scores” with his awkwardness. Steven had no idea how adorable he was.

When he didn’t answer, you turned over, squinting at him, blinking the sleep from your eyes; “Jake?”

Steven froze. God, you were gorgeous. Ohhhh it wasn’t fair. Why did Jake have to be the best with women….

“Jake? Are you alright?” Your hands came to cup his face, as you examined him for any sign of sickness, or anything else that might make him freeze so suddenly.

“ ‘M fine-!” Steven’s voice broke a little as he choked out a reply. Oh, good one Steven. You were wise to his sudden change in accent, sounding more like he was from London now. Your hands quickly retracted, and you gasped.

“…Not Jake?” “No-“ Steven gulped, you shifted away from him, Steven was sure it was to make him more comfortable, but he found himself internally begging you to shift closer. “Steven..?” You breathed out; “…Y-yeah, uh.. who’re you? W-where am I?”

You sighed, knowing that this conversation was going to happen one way or another. You put your hands up in a show of mercy; “My name is (Y/N)… this is my flat.. I’m uh… I’m Jake’s girlfriend.”

Steven’s eyes widened. “Oh.” “Yeah..” “….Well why didn’t I know he had a bloody girlfriend.”You giggled. At least he wasn't freaking out too much. "He didn't want to shock you, I.. I've known him since before he started to show himself to you and Marc." Steven nodded along. "Well I have to say, waking up in a strange woman's bed is pretty shocking..." You giggled again. "-Yes, sorry, he usually wakes up hours before me to go back to your place." "Oh right.." Steven sniffed.

"Um.. d-did you, uh... I mean, have you.." He motioned to your neck- Jake liked to leave hickeys. You caressed the marks, only just now realising they were there.

"Oh- um, do you mean..?" "Uh.. yeah- sorry it's just.. we share a body, y'know.." "No no I get it-! Um, yes, yes we did." He was, of course, not so subtly asking if you and Jake had had sex last night.

"Oh, right- I mean, it's fine! Obviously, you're like, together, and that's like, normal- sorry I'm making this so weird." The smile you gave him was sympathetic. "No, it's alright," you had told him, but your words had fallen into a buzz around him. Steven was deep in his thoughts- sure, it was Jake you'd had sex with, but they shared a body. What had he done with you? You'd had sex, but how? What did you like? As his mind spiralled, he felt his cock twitch a little beneath his boxers. Only a few hours ago, probably, his body had been inside you. His hands had probably made you cum a dozen times- Steven knew that's at least what he'd want to do with you...

"-Steven?" His thoughts cleared, "God, sorry love, head's all over the place today.." You hummed.

"You're really pretty." Steven's comment made the both of you blush, and you could've said the same of him. You hadn't noticed until now that you had subconsciously been shuffling closer to one another in the bed. Your noses were close to touching now, and you decided to take the plunge.

Steven whimpered as your lips met his, and while he was eager, it was strange that he be so inexperienced, considering, again, that he shared a body with Jake. His hands were greedy, but anxious. The trembling in his fingers gave presence to his mounting desire to touch you, and gently you guided his hands to your hips. That was all the encouragement he needed, his grip became suddenly a lot more confident, clutching your hips tightly before travelling down to squeeze your bum. He moaned with you, grinding your hips into the hot pressure of his cock against your tummy, his touch against you hungry, like an excitable dog.

You whined at the sudden loss of his mouth, biting your lip as he kissed his way down your neck.

"Bloody Jake, 's not fair, he always gets the girls, 's not fair, I'll show him-" Your thoughts were getting a little hazy, and the throbbing in your core became more and more apparent.

"Steven.." You breathed, if nothing else, he was eager to prove himself, fingers deftly ripping your panties down off of you.

"I can do it just as well as he can, you watch-" Steven didn't waste any time licking his way up to your clit, and sucking on it like a man starved. You cried out, hands falling to grip his soft curls. He was moaning and whimpering into you, just as you were above him. The seam of his boxers caught so deliciously on the head of his cock, and he all but cried into your cunt and he rocked his hips against the mattress.

Your hand came up to cover your moans, but Steven was having none of it, he halted his assault on your pussy, switching his tongue out for his fingers, deftly sliding inside of you, as you keened.

"No, no, none of that love, wanna hear ya, yeah?" Tears welled up in your eyes, and your toes curled as his fingers finally, finally found the spot. You writhed in pleasure, tugging harder on his hair. His mouth came back to suckle your clit, pistoning his fingers inside you with all the expertise that you would not have expected from him.

This hot mess contiuned for a while, until you were throwing your head back, pleasure soaring through your every nerve as you came all over Steven’s face, and he gladly drank your essence straight from the source. He didn't stop, though, he just kept going, the wet pad of his tongue doing wonders at overstimulating you- and from his canting hips and repeated whimpers, you could tell he was close too. It became too much however, and roughly you tugged his head up off of you, seemingly giving him the boost of masochistic pleasure he needed to tip himself over the edge, spilling himself into his boxers, moaning and drooling where he lay his head on your thigh.

You stayed like that for a moment, marvelling at Steven's beauty. He had his juices all over his face, messy boy. And had some of it gotten in his hair? He was a needy baby, too. He soon decided that he just wasn't close enough to you, and crawled up your body to snuggle himself between your breasts, sighing. His voice was muffled a little; "Was it good?" And you almost audibly "awed" at how cute he was being. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and you kissed his head;

"It was amazing Steven." He hummed, still a little jealous it seemed, "Bet Jake doesn't do that." You swatted his head lightly. "Don't be mean." "Just teasing love.."

It was still dark outside. Pussy-eating was a tiring activity, it seemed, as you felt Steven cuddle his way back to sleep in your arms. You kissed his head again, unconsciousness soon taking you as well. Steven was more resilient to new information than Jake thought, it seemed.

#jake lockley #jake lockley moonknight #smut #jake lockely x reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #Steven grant smit #moon knight #Moon knight x reader #Moon knight smut

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bamboobooshark · 1 month

Text

MOON BOYS X READER

₊˚.⋆🕯️⋆⁺. SHARING FOOD : 1.1K WRDS

A/N : Here’s something to hold you guys over for the week! School has been a pain in the ass, so it’s been kind of hard to keep up with classes, homework, social, etc. Hope you guys enjoy these little scenarios where you ask the boys for a bite of their food, even though you told them you weren’t hungry! ALSO SORRY TO THE MARC FANS MY MIND WAS BLANK ON THINKING OF SOMETHING FOR HIM 💔💔💔

STEVEN GRANT .

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, love? Anything at all?” Steven asks you while preparing to order something in the drive-through for the two of you. “Mhm! I’m sure,” you reassure him with a nod for what feels like the millionth time in a row. He exhales deeply and nods in acceptance. He hates it when you insist on not ordering something for yourself. It’s not because he hates sharing his food, but because he wants you to treat yourself. You deserve it!

Your footsteps pad against the hardwood floor of you and Steven’s flat. You rub your eyes from the exhaustion of today. Your senses heighten a bit as you spot Steven on the couch. He’s watching a new documentary. You smile when you realize it’s the one you won’t stop telling him about. Your heart practically melts at the fact that he remembered.

“Steven,” you say in a sing-song voice as you walk up behind the couch. “Mm,” he hums as an absent-minded reply. You lean forward and slip an arm on his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest. “I’m hungry,” you complain. Your eyes drift to the screen, and for only a moment, you and Steven are indulged heavily in the documentary. Your boyfriend let out a breath and winced softly. “Sorry, hun. Did you say something? I was a little focused on my documentary,” he told you with a nervous chuckle. His words pull you out of your own trance, and you nod your head. “Yeah! I said I’m hungry,” you exclaimed.

Steven chuckles softly and releases a hum of acknowledgment. "Well, how about we solve that problem?” he asks with a soft smile. “But I’d really like it if you sat with me first,” he requested as a form of compromise. You smile and roll your eyes at him. He’s always known exactly how to make you agree to do something with him or for him. You walk around the back of the couch and flop down right next to him. Without asking, you reach over to the side table and grab a bite of his food. He swats at your hand with a stupid pout on his face before the two of you exchange snickers and laughs.

MARC SPECTOR .

“Whatever you say, baby,” Marc says in a tone that asks if you’re really sure. You laugh at the way he dramatically raises his eyebrows, throws up his hands, and widens his eyes. “Whatever I say,” you repeat while giving him a playful look. On the way home, though, you keep eyeing his bag of food as stubtly as your attempts can.

Marc sighs when he hears you approach the dinner table. “Marc! Hey,” you drag out awkwardly. He looks up at you from his phone and gives you the same look he always does—the one that tells you he’s always right. “Hungry?” he asks before you get the chance to spit it out. You drop your head in defeat and nod. “Yep,” you agree sheepishly while glancing at his food.

He nods while taking another bite. He reaches his hand into the bag and pulls out food for you. You get butterflies in your stomach as he hands you the packaged meal. “Your usual. With everything you always ask for and nothing of what you don’t ask for,” he says with a knowing smirk. You stand there silently, embarrassed that he knew you’d ask for his food but blushing at how he knew your exact order.

“My kiss?” he asks while giving you a side eye. You put your hands up in defense before leaning forward and kissing his cheek gently. “Thank you, Marc,” you chirp sweetly. “Thank you for the kiss, baby,” he says in a similar tone.

JAKE LOCKLEY .

“Dios mío,” Jake groans over the phone. “I know you’re going to beg me for a little bite of my food later, cariño. Tell me what you want me to get you,” the man urges, like his life depends on it. “Jake, I told you I’m not hungry! If I do get hungry later, I’ll heat up some leftovers or something,” you insist while laying sprawled out on your shared bed. Another noise of annoyance comes from your phone before your boyfriend speaks again. “Okay, mi sol. Whatever you say, don’t come begging for food later. You know I’ll make you do something for it,” he says with a soft chuckle. The two of you say your goodbyes before he hangs up.

“I’m home, chiquito,” he calls to you as he enters the flat, holding his bag of food in one hand while the other holds a flower. He struggles to shut the door with his hands full, but manages to get it done. “Jake! I missed you,” you exclaimed with excitement from the couch. “I know you did. You always do,” he says cheekily. You give him a look that says, ‘Really?’ “Okay, sorry! I missed you too,” he says in a dramatically sweet voice. You both share a laugh. He comes and sits down by you, the couch squeaking a bit once he does. “I got you a flower. Es muy bonito. Just like you,” he says before pressing a kiss on your forehead. He gently gets a hold of your jaw, then tucks the flower behind your ear. He smiles wider because, damn, you are just too much for him to handle. He loves how you look adorning his little gifts.

Jake lets out a grunt as he gets comfortable on the couch. He snatches the remote from your hand with a smirk. He begins to browse through the channels and starts to eat. As your boyfriend is focused on finding something interesting to watch, you carefully reach your hand into the bag of food. “Aye. Don’t,” he tells you with a stern tone. He’s always so good at noticing little details and catching things; likely from being a cabby for a living. You groan as your hand retreats. “Please? Pretty please? I just want a bite,” you ask with a slightly annoyed tone. “I told you earlier that you’d have to do something for me if you wanted some, cariño,” he reminds you. You huff softly and give him a look that prompts him to tell you what he wants you to do. He hums in thought, then makes eye contact with you once he thinks of something. He leans close to you and takes your jaw in his hand once more. “Say please again,” he purrs while looking at you. “Please,” you hesitantly beg. He smiles and pulls back, causing you to yearn for a kiss. He laughs and gives you a bite of his food before you steal the kiss you rightfully deserve.

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little-worm-grant · 8 months

Text

How They Loved You

Moonboys x You (Reader)

730 words / 18+ only, no minors

Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: Who fell in love with you first? How do they behave around you? Some ramblings of how each of the alters likes to love you.

Warnings: No smut but suggestive.

Dedicated to @lunaselena - ♥

Steven thought it the moment he met you. The way you talked. The way you smiled at him. How kind you were. Didn’t show him any sign of being sick of his rambling. He was smitten. Didn’t take him long to blurt it out. He wanted to please you in every way he could think of. He learned fast. Intuitive towards you. Empathetic to your needs. He listened. Searched for ways to gently push buttons he never knew existed before you.

Simply having you existing gave him all the motivation he needed to try and make you happy. You let him explore and find his confidence. In turn, he’d find ways to surprise you. Always with that dopey grin on his face and that eagerness like you wouldn’t believe.

He’d be the one that’d spend a whole movie massaging your back. Cuddling or staring at you that little bit longer or until he couldn’t any more. He’s easily flustered and still bashful at times. Eyes quickly cast away as you strip the last of your clothing. His gaze would always return.

Once he was comfortable in your space? He’d be sneaking up to try and surprise you. Playful in his kisses and bites against you. Knowing exactly what he was doing but feigning innocence. More giggly in his flirting and teasing. Checking in when he can to make sure everything he’s doing and you’re doing is okay. He’d worship the ground you stood on if he could.

Sure, he liked you for a while, but it took Marc getting to know you before it came down hot and heavy. Suddenly there was no air to breathe unless it was yours. You were his thoughts day and night. He needed all his time with you. Felt he was missing out anytime the others were with you instead of him.

Years would pass and he’d still be the same way. Utterly devoted. Not loud in his affection or words like the others sometimes were, but he made sure you knew he loved you. Gentle in all the right ways. Rough in the ways you both needed. He’d be the one doing the most to make sure you were cared for. Feed you. Drag you into baths and showers with him. Pull you into his arms to nap with him.

Marc loves you and only you. You’re more important to him than himself. He’d be the kind to burn the world down just to keep you safe. He’d kill for you. He’d be the most unstable if you left. A kind of obsessiveness he knows can’t be healthy but can’t help himself.

Took the longest time for him to express his feelings. Even if he felt it, he never expected it to be reciprocated. Marc’s good at putting on a show of being stoic and decisive. Deep down he still felt undesirable, like he wasn’t worth you. How lucky he was to have such a person to orbit around. You were his sun. His planet. And all the stars around him.

Took him the longest to come around to the idea of loving you. Told yourself it was because he wasn’t out much and when he was he’d tried to avoid you and the others. Too used to his own bubble. Worried you’d hurt him if you got the chance. By being in constant proximity to the others, you caught glimpses of him. And in those glimpses, you seemed to like what you saw.

Jake’s moment of falling in love wasn’t hard and fast like Steven’s, or hot and heavy like Marc’s. It was an “awww fuck. Shit.” Kind of moment. Him standing there rubbing his gloved hand over his face because he realizes he really does care about this spicy little dumbass. You drive him crazy and he couldn’t understand until now why he wants you to keep doing that.

He wants to excite you. Take you out to see and do things you’ve probably never seen or done before. Enjoys the company in those long drives he loves to take. You catch him off guard with being okay he’s more his own person. He likes to be around and indispensable to others. Likes that you like seeing him like that. Marc’s bold, but Jake can be bolder. He’s possibly a little more on the competitive side. Isn’t one to back down.

#steven grant #marc spector #jake lockey #moon knight #oscar isaac #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #open rp #open starter #marcs pov #jakes pov #stevens pov #moon boys

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romanarose · 8 months

Text

Misunderstanding

Marc Spector x fem!reader

Join my taglist! Masterlist Read on ao3

Summary: When the boys come home early and see boxes all packed and furniture on the street, Marc jumps to the worst option. Clearly, you're leaving him.

Warnings: PIV sex, wall sex, oral f!recieving, manhandling, rough needy smut but loving and passionate, anxiety attack, Marc's self loathing but reader adores him. Calling Marc all kinda of cute nick names.

Immersability: Reader is fem, afab. Reader can be largly supported against the wall by Marc's strong arms <3

A/N: Commission done for @minigirl87 thank you SOOOOOOO much for your patience!!! Next time I do commissions i need to not do them right before moving. Left me quite behind. Anyway appreciate you so much!

Support creators! Reblog!

2.2k words

********************

Chaos made Marc anxious.

So, that’s why you decided to do spring cleaning while he and the boys were at work, hoping to get most of it done before the boys returned from work. What threw all your plans out of whack was a chance spotting on facebook marketplace. The prettiest furniture you’ve ever seen in your life was for fucking free. The owners were cleaning out the house from their mom who just passed, and just wanted the furniture to go to someone who’d love it like their mom did. And boy did you love it. The style was French Louis XVI. Fucking beautiful. So, you were making room.

A lot was going to be given away with permission from your boys, and you’d be doing a lot of reorganizing of Steven’s books. A lot of trash, oh my god so much trash. Marc sure did love take out, even if it drove Jakey crazy. Then your old furniture was hauled out into the street for the garbage on tuesday, or some desperate soul. You hadn’t quite gotten to organizing Steven’s books and papers, but the trash was picked up, floors swept and mopped, and the old furniture was out. You needed to pick up your dream furniture, so you hopped into your car.

Steven was elated he got to go home early. It was only an hour, but that’s an hour more with you!!! You loved extra time with you!! There was a spring in his step, happily humming along to some song on Jake’s playlist on their phone.

Until he saw it.

‘Aye, ¿que es?’ Jak asked, interrupting Steven’s happy thoughts.

Marc. ‘Is that… our furniture?’

“Oh my god…” Steven murmurs, slowing his steps. All their things were on the street.

‘She’s leaving us.’

“Oh, will you calm the hell down.” But Steven was a little nervous. He walks up the apartment stairs, ready to find you and get it all sorted out but… you weren’t there. The place looked so bare, so empty… The pictures on the walls were taken down, all the memories together, clothes were half-sorted in the bedroom and sheets off the bed…

You were gone. You didn’t want them anymore.

Marc took the body, pulling out his phone and calling you multiple times, but you went straight to voicemail.

“She’s done with us” Marc groans, backing against the wall. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

‘Mate, you need to calm down’ Steven tried to assure Marc, but he was nervous too.

Marc slid down the wall, beginning to panic. “Not this again…”

Jake and Steven attempted to tell him there’s another reason, logically.

‘She wouldn't just us… leave us’ Jake insisted. ‘She’s not like that. She’d tell us if there was an issue.’

None of this helped calm Marc, and he mentally checked out, sitting against the wall on the floor staring out the window.

That’s how you found Marc, dissociating and mentally checked out when you got home.

“Marcy Marc? Baby? Are you okay?” You toss your keys onto the counter and approach him, but stop when he suddenly jerks towards you like a scared animal.

Marc looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he scrambles to stand up. “Holy shit, you’re here…” He mutters, dashing over to you. “Baby, whatever it is, I swear to god I’ll fix it-” Marc hugs you so tightly it knocks the breath out of you with the force of him, strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Normally, you loved his bear hugs, they made you feel safe and oh-so loved, but right now his actions warned you he was upset. You always knew when your man was in distress, even when he tried to hide it. He wasn’t as slick as he thought he was. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry-”

You hug him right back. “Marc, honey, what’s going on? You didn’t do anything wrong.” That you know of, but honestly you couldn’t foresee Marc, Jake or Steven doing anything bad enough for you to be upset about. Only thing would be… Gently, so he knows you aren’t rejecting his affection, you nudge him away so you can look in his eyes. However, you keep hold on his arms. Marc’s love language was physical touch, so you always showed your love to him this way.

“Baby…” You look into his eyes, keeping your tone and facial expressions soft. “Have you heard from Khonshu lately?”

Confusion spreads on Marc’s face, his already large eyes widening. “No! Nonononono is that what this is about? You thought I was with Khonshu again?”

You were confused too. “I didn’t think anything was happening until I came home and you were against the wall. Marc, sweetheart.” You search his face for answers. “Can you just tell me what’s going on? I’m confused.”

He sputters a bit, trying to find the words. “Y-you’re leaving! You’re leaving us…”

You blink at him. “Huh? I’m not leaving you, god Marc, whatever got you this worked up? Sweetie, I’ve never been happier than with you three…”

“The furniture is on the street… Things are packed up… And, and and- the pictures! The pictures, they’re are taken down, our whole life together is off the walls-”

Ah. “Marc…” You realize what happened now. “Oh sweetheart, sweetie pie… I’m not leaving you. I’m doing spring cleaning. Remember, last week we went over what I could give away?”

The recognition slowly starts to spread across his face. “But… the pictures…”

“I took them down to wash the walls.”

“Oh… and the furniture?” It was beginning to click for him. This was all a misunderstanding.

You smile softly. “I found the coolest furniture. Steven will love it.”

He blinked. And again. “So… you don’t hate me?”

Your heart nearly broke at his words. “Oh Marc, no!” You gather him up in your arms again. “My sweet, sweet man I could never!”

You see his lip quiver a bit, but instead of crying Marc crashes his mouth into yours, large hands groping at your body with a fevur, like he couldn't believe you were real, that you were still here, still wanted him.

And he needed you.

“C’mere-” He grunted, gripping your asscheeks and pulling you towards him as he kisses you, mouth claiming yours in desperation.

Instantly you were filled with desire; Marc tended to do that to you. He was so handsome, so kind, so gentle you couldn’t help giving your all to him right away. Marc backed you up against the wall, the hand behind your head preventing you from smacking it against the plaster. He always looked out for you like that. You could feel his hardness as his wide hips ground into you, his plump pressed stomach against yours. You love how he’s softened, still so strong, but the safety of your home and the very idea that he wasn’t on the run and living in storage units… His body felt as safe as his mind did.

Marc’s mouth consumed you, licking into your mouth as his knee rid up between your legs. In loose, thin basketball shorts you felt his thick, manly thighs and sigh and pleasure.

“Marc…” You moan for him, unable to control the sounds of pleasure from escaping your mouth as you work yourself on his body. Hitching a leg up against his side, you cling to Marc for stability as he uses his grip on your ass for leverage, dragging you up and down on him. Marc’s kisses are insatiable, you feel as if he is attempting to breathe you in with heavy pants, kissing your lips and neck. Your face is wet from the open-mouth kisses.

Suddenly, and without warning, just as you are approaching the precipice humping his thigh, Marc pulls away and for a moment you think he got in his own head again, but then you are turned, face pressed against the wall but not painfully. Marc pulls your hips out, bends down to pull down your shorts and fucking picks you up by your pressed together legs to pull the shorts away. If that wasn’t sexy enough, he then kicks apart your ankles forcing your legs open. You aren’t even sure when Marc undid his pants, but before you know it, he is thrusting into your pliant and waiting body.

“M-Marc…” You repeat, his name the only thing on your mind is his name and his cock. Okay and maybe his hand wrapping around your front and snaking up your body. He plays with your grunts, grunting with his breaths hot against your ear and in time to the slamming thrusts of his hips. You brace against the wall, pushing your ass out more to take more of his length inside you.

“Thought I lost you…” He mutters, face tucked into your neck.

“Never, never Ma- AH!” You cry out when he squeezes a tit hard, pressing bruises through your shirt. “You-mmmph-you’re stuck with me.”

He pounds your core, rough thrusts mixed with soft kisses. You tilt your head back, desperate for his mouth, his love, his affection yours. He obliges, always knowing what you need and meeting your mouth to sloppily make out with you like horny teenagers. It was needy, it was desperate, it was Marc’s complete and utter relief that he was not going to be left shattered. He filled you over and over and again, the fat tip of his cock pressing up against that beautiful spot inside you. When you came, it was hard, pulsing on his cock again and again and again. Marc wrapped his arm under your middle as your legs began to feel like jell-o.

“Mine.” He growls, spilling his cum inside you. “Fucking mine. Don’t every fucking scare me like that again.”

You want to tell him you didn’t that he jumped to his own conclusions but you were barely standing when he twirled you around again. Dropping to his knees, Marc looked up at you, large and wet brown eyes gazing at you in adoration. He was beautiful, so fucking beautiful…

“I won’t…” You whisper down to his hopeful face. “I promise. I love you so much.”

With a relieved look on his face, Marc smiles at you and god is it nice to see him smile. “I love you too, baby.” With that, he hitches a leg over his shoulder and dives into your pussy. Between his cum and yours, it’s a mess down there and that’s further evidenced by the absolutely obscene sounds coming from his mouth as he sluuuurped up the evidence of your time together. Marc was eager, eating his own cum out of you while keeping your supported against the wall. You knew he wouldn’t let you fall. His tongue swirled against your clit, making you buck against him so one hand pinned your hips to the wall. He ate like this was his last meal, like his salvation came from your pleasure.

When he sucked on the sensitive nub, you cry out his name and dig your fingers into Marc’s dark curls, keeping him close to you. As if he’d ever leave. You were close again, the whirling swirling feeling deep inside you continuing to build like a twister into a tornado as you chant Marc, Marc, Marc like the repetition of a Rosary. His tongue flicked inside you, one hand keeping you upright against the wall and the other playing with your clit, making you come apart directly into his mouth.

You pull on his hair so hard you worry you’re hurting him but the way Marc shoves his face into you even harder spurs you on. You can hear and feel him moaning into you as he laps up your release, a soft mmmmmm reverbating against your pussy and prolonging it as you ride his face. Your left leg is so tired, so sore, starting to wobble and Marc notices as he finally pulls away. Marc helps you slide down the wall, landing you safely on your bottom.

On his hands and knees, Marc Spector crawls to you, kissing your lips tenderly but you can see his own exhaustion too. Cupping his face in both your hands, you kiss Marc as you lay him down on your naked lap. You’re surprised with how quickly Marc’s full lashes flutter closed, his head resting between the crux of your thigh and stomach.

You play with his hair. He seems so tired, today must’ve taken it out of him. After a whole day of work, coming home to thinking you were gone. You know how anxiety can physically drain you.

“That really scared you, huh?” You say, petting him like a cat. You swear you can hear him pur.

Marc talks soft, sleepy, eyes never opening. “Yeah. Thought I lost you… I can’t do that.”

“I’ll never leave you, sweetie. And I’d certainly never leave like that… But I know how anxiety can be.”

His voice was groggy with sleep, quiet and muttered. “Yeah, it fuck’n sucks.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “It does, baby, it does. But I’m here, and I ain’t going nowhere. Can’t get rid of me if you tried, Spector.”

He hums constantly, and in another moment, Marc is snoring softly. He’s so cute.

Then, he’s snoring loudly.

Why didn’t Steven and Jake snore? Made no fucking sense.

Sighing, you settle back against the wall and maneuver enough to grab your shorts without waking your sleeping, tuckered out little boyfriend. You pull out your phone, take a few cute pictures (some with flowery or silly snapchat filters) then go play Candy Crush. He needed to rest.

Mostly, because he had a long day and was so so adorable when he was sleeping even if he was loud as all goddamn hell.

But also, you still had several pieces of furniture sitting in your car and there was no way you were going to move all of them yourself.

*************

We love a reader who can take care of an anxious baby <3

Thank you so much for reading!!!! This is my first marc, or any moon knight in a few months. I MISSED HIIIIIIMMMMMMMM

My beloved one <3

MY MOON KNIGHT RETURN IS HERE!!!!!!

I got a dark reader x marc coming up IF I OULD EVER GET A GOOD KNIGHTS SLEEP follow @romana-after-dark for that

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ivystoryweaver · 13 days

Text

Day 11: I Never Knew (Marc, Jake, Steven)

Summary: You meet up with all 3 Moon Boys one fateful night

Notes: gn!reader, angst, violence, fluff, protective Moon Boys being the absolute best TW: abuse. This story starts with an abusive boyfriend.

Word Count: 4.8k

Angstember Prompt Post

Your boyfriend of two years had tested the last of your patience. At first you loved his passionate hotheadedness. You quickly fell for him and moved in together six months later. It was lovely at first, to have someone fun and spontaneous, to sleep next to a warm, protective body at night.

After about a year together, you realized something wasn't right. Your boyfriend kept odd hours, whispered hushed conversations over the phone, made "quick stops" at the oddest hours to the shadiest places.

And that hotheaded passion sizzled into blame and resentment every time you tried to reason with him. He was always quick to apologize, to bring you flowers, or a gift, to take you out for the night, lavishing you with attention and intense, vigorous sex.

So you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was trying, and every couple had their struggles.

But the fuse of his temper got shorter, and his actions, more suspect. He lost his regular job but somehow still brought home money. When you questioned him, he accused you of not trusting him. Something felt wrong, you knew it deep in your bones, but you told yourself that relationships take work and compromise.

It was just last week that you demanded to know why he was out all night - who he was with and where they went. He'd raised his voice before, on occasion, but that early morning was different. He roared out accusations, lunging at you, and continued yelling and screaming over your cowered body. He didn't touch you, but his words beat you down, literally to the ground, where he left you afraid, sobbing and alone.

That's what it took to make you realize he was abusive. Clearly, he was now verbally abusive, but you started to understand that he had been manipulative, dishonest and controlling the entire time, lying about finances and whereabouts.

He had abused you in almost every way, except physically. You knew it was time to leave, so you started to plan how you would secure yourself a place to stay and what to tell him.

Your phone rang as you finished packing your suitcase - the first of many things you needed to move out. Not recognizing the number, you ignored the call. But it rang again and again and again, with a voicemail that warned you to answer. You blocked the number and tried to frantically dial emergency when your boyfriend burst through the front door, enraged.

Barreling into your bedroom, he roared at you, demanding to know what you did with "the money". Apparently, the phone call was from his boss, calling to collect.

"You mean my money? From my job?" You challenged, shrugging him off and zipping your suitcase closed.

Jerking the luggage out of your hand, he screamed at you about how he needed that money for his boss, how he'd taken care of you all this time, and you owed him.

"You're gonna give me that fuckin' money," he spat, lunging toward you, but you were already running out the door with only your phone in your hand. You thankfully made it into the lift with the doors closed before he caught up, and you could only pray he wouldn't make it down the several floors of stairs and beat you to the lobby.

There was no one downstairs to help you, so you raced out the door into the night, frantically attempting to dial 999 while crying and trying to stay ahead of your insane boyfriend.

You ran as fast as you could, but he was bigger and stronger, and he was gaining on you. Attempting to cut through an alley, your lungs burned, painfully dragging in breath as you pushed yourself toward safety.

But he found you.

Your mobile clattered to the ground as he grabbed both your arms and shoved you hard against a brick wall, calling you all manner of vile names and demanding you give him the money from your account.

Noticing your phone, he twisted your wrist well beyond the point of pain. "You didn't call anyone, did you, bitch? If you get the police involved I'll fucking kill you."

You had already drained your joint account and put money in your personal savings account so that you could afford a deposit on a new place, at least get a moving truck and hook up some utilities. You didn't take any more money than you had made from your job at the museum.

"I owe my boss money and I need it right fucking now," he bellowed, wrapping one hand around your throat and squeezing. “Tell me where it is.”

Unbelievable that it took you til right now to realize your boyfriend was more than an asshole, he was apparently a criminal. Or at least his boss might be if he was demanding a midnight payoff "or else".

"I moved... the money," you gasped, completely out of breath from the running and the crying and the choking and the fear.

He gripped your shoulders and slammed you hard against the wall. "We're going to get it right now. Then we're going home and you're gonna get on your hands and knees and pay for all this shit you put me through."

You whimpered, trembling at his threats, disgusted that his eyes flashed with self-satisfaction. He slipped two fingers into your mouth, pushing them far enough to gag you, an evil chuckle making you cry harder.

"Oh yeah. We're gonna have fun tonight, baby."

"I don't think she wants to be your 'baby', shithead."

You gasped as two eerie, white gloved hands grabbed your boyfriend's head and slammed it against the wall, hard enough to knock him out cold, but not enough to bash his skull in. Unfortunately.

Through your tears, you saw an etherial mummy figure, bandaged and gauzey white, with haunting, moonlit eyes. Your body quaked with more terror than you'd ever known. Perhaps he was the boss your boyfriend was so afraid of.

You passed out in Moon Knight’s arms.

"Shit," Marc Spector hissed, lifting your limp body into a protective embrace. He'd heard your screaming blocks away. Khonshu had directed him to the asshole passed out on the pavement next to you, letting Marc know he was a small player in an elaborate criminal organization. It would keep him busy tonight.

Brushing your hair out of your eyes, he sighed. "Didn't mean to scare you." He decided to take you to A&E, but before he walked away, he kicked your unconscious boyfriend in the side for good measure.

You woke up on a hospital bed, alone, a long while later. It appeared you had been triaged but not admitted. Remembering your boyfriend's threats, you decided you better bail before the police questioned you or you found yourself responsible for medial bills you couldn't pay.

You were scraped and sore, but nothing seemed permanent, so you did your best to sneak back to the waiting room where you could blend in with other would-be patients. One nurse seemed to glance at you questioningly, but you managed to make it out the sliding glass doors and into the night.

Now what could you do? You had no money, no phone, no purse, no bank card, credit cards or cash. Your suitcase was back at your flat. Ambling around the side of the building, you shivered in the night air, realizing even your jacket was still in the building.

Tears burned your eyes but you couldn't give into them. Not now. Your best friend was out of town. It was a long weekend for your co-workers, at least in the office part of the museum. Your parents lived in another country.

Think, think.

A few minutes later, an old fashioned cab pulled up to the curb. The passenger side window lowered revealing a man with a flat cap and a mustache.

"Need a ride, señorita?"

Drawing your hands to your chest protectively, you quickly shook your head. "I-I don't have any money. I dropped my phone."

Shit. Why did you admit that to a stranger?

Jake Lockley nodded understandingly. He had been watching the hospital to make sure you had a ride, should you emerge. Marc's idea, after he did a little late night ass kicking. Marc knew the Moon Knight suit would frighten you, but he wanted to make sure you were okay. A cab ride might seem less intimidating.

"It's on me. You look like you could use a little help."

Tempting. But he probably worked for your boyfriend's boss. "No. No thank you. I'm fine."

"Understood. Be careful out there." He rolled up the window almost all the way before pausing. "I'll swing back by in a while, just in case you change your mind." He drove off without another word.

If he was aiming to hurt you or kidnap you, surely he could have forced you into the car, or worked harder to convince you it was safe to get into the car.

Weighing your options, you decided to try to walk back to the alley where the terrifying white-suited, Avenger-looking dude saved you. Hopefully your boyfriend would be gone and you could at least find your phone. From there, you would have a way to call a cab or the police or at least use money from your account.

As soon as you started walking, you realized how stupid this plan was. But what else could you do? It took you forever, but you finally found your way back to where you were attacked. Your boyfriend was indeed gone and after a maddening search, you found your phone with a cracked screen and 12% battery left.

Better than nothing. You thought you might order an Uber, but where could you go? Not home. Where?

Maybe to work. Someone there would help you, surely. Perhaps Steven from the gift shop - probably the kindest person you'd ever met. He lived in your building too, although you weren't sure in which flat.

You ordered the Uber, and ten minutes later, the same old fashioned cab pulled up to the curb. Your stomach flip-flopped, wondering if this mustached weirdo followed you. But he showed you the Uber confirmation and it was correct.

"But this is a cab," you reasoned.

He chuckled. "They don't make ‘em like this anymore, doll. This is my Uber car."

You tried to listen to your protective instincts, but the sun was rising. You'd been out all night and he was a legitimate driver. So you tucked yourself in the back seat.

The man tipped his hat, announced his name was Jake, and closed the door for you.

"Headed home?" He asked, glancing up at you in his rearview mirror.

"Uh no. No, I can't go home," you quickly answered, wrapping your arms around yourself and rubbing up and down with your hands.

"Got the heat on for you," he kindly offered, "and my jacket's laying across the back seat there, if you need it."

Your eyes cut over to the tempting leather. Without thinking about it too hard, you snatched the garment and pulled it around your trembling shoulders. The smell of not only leather but crisp freshness and earthy warmth, along with something like amber and oak, washed over you. You buried your nose in the comfort of it, grateful for this small mercy.

"Warming up?" He asked you after a quiet few minutes.

"Yes, thank you. You're very kind."

"My pleasure," he grinned in the rearview mirror and it made his eyes crinkle. Steven, from the museum, came to mind. His eyes did that too. "Where can I drop you? Have you decided yet or should I drive around for a while?"

"Oh god, sorry. One sec." Checking the time on your phone, you realized you'd been out practically all night, and the museum would open in a little more than an hour. You could wait outside. "The natural history museum, please."

"A little early for a trip through time. You sure?"

Just then, your stomach growled embarrassingly loudly.

"You ever eat at the bakery right down the street?"

"Um, sometimes." You fidgeted uncomfortably.

"No pressure. You just look like you could use something warm to drink."

Without another word, Jake pulled up to the museum's front entrance. You reached for the door handle, but stopped. "Actually...you're right. Could you drive me to the bakery? I'll just walk back to the museum when I'm done."

"As you wish."

A few minutes later, the old cab parked outside one of the only open restaurants at this hour. Jake rushed around to open the door for you and you quickly handed him his jacket.

"You can wear it if you're cold. No rush."

There was something warm and sincere in his eyes. Again your mind drifted to Steven.

"Thank you." As the two of you walked inside, you held up your phone. "I tried to pay for the Uber and leave you a tip, but it won't let me. Did the transaction get cancelled or something?"

"I told you," Jake reminded you, pulling open the bakery door, "My treat."

"Oh. Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

The two of you sat down and were quickly served glasses of water.

"At least let me pay for breakfast," you offered, but he laughed.

"They only take cash here, I think."

"Jake!" An older man bellowed, bustling up to the table with a karafe of piping hot coffee and two mugs. "We take more than cash. You can always wash the dishes."

The man winked down at you. "I'm teasing, sweetheart. Name's Burt. Janey got one of those Square things, so you can pay on your mobile if you do that kind of thing." He nodded at Jake. "But I'd make this one pay if I were you. Coffee or tea?"

You chuckled, happy to get your hands on a steaming mug of coffee, and slightly relieved that you wouldn't fall further into Jake's debt.

Soon enough, you filled your belly with a warm, flaky pastry and some eggs, polishing off two cups of coffee while you and Jake talked.

"Do you mind if I ask why you're going to the museum?" Jake inquired.

"Um...I work there," you slowly admitted.

"Oh." An unreadable expression clouded his handsome features. "But...I found you at the hospital last night. Are you hurt?"

Your eyes dipped in shame.

"Not trying to be nosy, just...concerned, is all." Gently reaching across the table, he pulled a leaf from your hair. An actual leaf.

You were mortified.

"Wanna freshen up before work?" He nodded toward the washroom.

"Yeah. Thanks." You made a beeline for the loo, wondering why you hadn't thought to put yourself together before walking into the museum like a crazy person.

Jake was right to be concerned. You looked like hell. Dark circles had formed under your eyes. Before you could continue silently berating yourself, the waitress named Janey quietly slipped through the swinging door.

"You okay, dear?" She softly asked, eyeing you in the mirror. Before you could answer, she handed you a clean cloth.

"Thank you," you whispered, gingerly taking the cloth and running it under the faucet. The kindness around you made you sniffle, and you were left wondering why you spent so much time on an asshole like your boyfriend.

"Rough night?" She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't want to pry. Just want to help."

"Thanks," you repeated. "Do you have a toothbrush for sale? Or...mints?"

Between you and Janey, you managed to clean up your mouth, wipe down the upper part of your body and manage to tame your hair.

"You come back by any time, dear," she said lowly as you walked back toward your table, but she reached out her arm to stop you. "I mean it. Anytime."

You nodded, reaching for your phone so you could pay for your meal. "On the house, sweetheart," Burt smiled down at you. "A friend of Jake's is a friend of mine."

You were speechless. Where had all the nice people been hiding?

Jake's eyes lit up when he saw you and he rose to greet you. "Feeling any better?"

You nodded, reaching for one more sip of water before you got back in the cab/Uber.

"Your friends are really nice. I haven't eaten there in a long time."

"We try to help each other out," Jake voiced, stealing a glance at you in the rearview mirror. "It can be rough out there."

You made it to the museum, thankful it would open soon. "You sure I can't pay you, or at least give you a good tip?" You asked him as he opened your door and offered you his gloved hand like a prince in a fairy tale.

"Just promise you'll call me if you need a ride. Or...anything. We'll call it even." He fidgeted with his mustache and you chuckled. Not a look you saw every day but he wore it well.

You thanked him again, but he noticed you stealing glances at his mustache.

"My uh...roomates think this thing is the worst. Not a good look?"

"Oh no," you laughed, "it's very dashing."

Jake bowed jokingly. "My lady."

You walked right into the museum wearing his jacket.

The security officer didn't recognize you because he worked weekends and you didn't. Probably a good thing. You could only hope Steven was scheduled today. But at least being inside the museum would give you a safe, comfortable place to think.

After meandering through several exhibits, you checked back at the gift shop, only to find Donna, Steven's boss, berating him for being late. He apologized profusely, professing that he had no idea why he hadn't heard his alarm. Poor thing. He was so sweet and Donna was just the worst.

She finally let him get to work, and as soon as she headed back to her office, you approached him carefully.

"Hi, Steven," you smiled at him, hoping he would have time to help you.

His eyes brightened when he saw you, but quickly narrowed in concern. You must really look like hell. "You alright, love?"

Bouncing on your toes, you shook your head quickly. "Not really. Can we talk?"

Steven knew he would get in trouble for leaving his post, but this was you. If you needed his help, Donna would have to wait.

Sure enough, she barreled back into the gift shop, ready for a lecture, but Steven pressed his hands together and demanded one more minute.

Guiding you by the elbow, he took you to a quiet corner. "Thought you had a long weekend. What brings you in?"

You asked if there might be any way you could talk in private, in one of the employee lounges. "I know you just got here. I can wait."

Chewing on his lip, he glanced between you and the swinging door where Donna lurked in her evil lair.

"Come on."

Once you were totally alone, he hesitantly reached for your face. “May I?” He whispered, gingerly brushing his fingertips over a scrape on your face. Peering down at your bruised wrist, he gently lifted your hand, shaking his head and exhaling sharply through his nose.

"You're hurt." His eyes locked with yours. "Who did this?"

Your face crumpled and you melted into his arms, the stress of the entire, sleepless night catching up to you. You knew this was the place to go, absolutely certain you would feel safe with Steven.

His heart burned protectively. The two of you sometimes ran into one another on your break, mostly out on the museum's front steps or at the vegan restaurant along the street. Occasionally you saw one another on the train home, or even in your building. He knew you had a boyfriend - the dimwitted bloke.

If that asshole hurt you...

"It's alright. You're safe here." He squeezed you comfortingly.

You finally settled, wiping your nose and eyes with Jake's jacket sleeve. Steven's eyes went wide as he studied the jacket carefully, but he shook his head and focused on you.

"Tell me what happened. What can I do?"

The softest brown eyed gaze you'd ever seen coaxed your confession out of you.

"I need your help," you whispered. "I need to get back into our building, but I don't have my key, or any of my stuff." You produced your phone. "And my phone is dead."

"Okay, of course," he nodded sincerely. "What about your boyfriend?"

"No, no, not him. I think he wants to kill me." You started to cry again.

"To k-kill you? Should we go to the police?"

"No, no police. I just need to get into my flat before my boyfriend gets back. If he's not back already."

Steven sighed. "I knew that dimwitted bloke was an asshole, but - kill you?"

"Steven, please can you help me or not?"

"Of course I will. Do you want to go now?"

"I don't want to get you in trouble with Donna. But my boss is her boss' boss...if that helps. I’ll ask him to pull rank.”

You and Steven took the train back to your building. Although you were half tempted to request Jake's Uber, Steven quickly dismissed that notion without sounding rude.

He let you in the building and you found the super, letting him know you "lost" your key. The super seemed willing to let you in, but warned you not to let it happen again.

As you exited the lift, you carefully looked for any sign of your boyfriend.

"What if he's home?" Steven whispered. "How will you know?

"I guess we just have to take that chance."

The super unlocked your door and you tiptoed inside with Steven behind you. The place seemed to be empty, thank god.

Darting to your bedroom, you recovered the packed luggage your jerk boyfriend tossed aside last night. You rushed to your safe to collect some important documents, working as quickly as you could manage. You made it out the door, not caring that you left it unlocked, dragging your luggage and almost making it around the corner when your heart stopped at the sound of your boyfriend shouting, "Hey!"

You and Steven exchanged looks before he grabbed your hand and your luggage. "Quickly! The stairs."

Trusting his lead, you ran, making your way to his flat, several floors up, before your boyfriend could follow, or figure out what floor you ended up on.

Steven ushered you into his flat, bolting the door as the two of you panted erratically from your exertion.

"Thank you," you gasped, reaching for your baggage. Finally getting a good look around, you couldn't believe how different Steven's flat looked from yours. His was on the top floor, in what appeared to be a loft, or converted old attic. The roof was steeply pitched with skylights offering more natural light than just the windows.

More than a dozen bookshelves burst with multicolored, worn paperbacks and gorgeous hardbacks. Ancient Egyptian artifacts, maps and souvenirs littered his cluttered desk and shelves. And in the middle of it all sat a bright aquarium with three plump goldfish.

You felt as if you stepped through a portal into another world. How could this place be in your building?

"Steven, your place is..."

"Bit of a mess, yeah? Sorry. Who's the biggest hoarder around? Me." He blushed, pointing to himself.

"No, it's wonderful. It's so different than my flat. It's like an old library."

He smiled, emboldened by your compliment. "You like to read?"

"Not this much, but yes. I do. I like the skylights." You locked eyes with him. "It's really soothing here." Reaching for his arm, you squeezed gently. "Thank you for helping me."

"Anytime." The crinkles around his warm eyes reminded you of Jake. It occured to you then, that Jake had also reminded you of Steven.

"Cuppa tea?" He asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

"Sure," you shrugged, following him. "I'll help."

The two of you worked quietly for a moment, when you asked him if he had a brother.

He swallowed hard. "I did...long time ago. He passed away."

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, Steven." God, what an idiot you were. "I just...you reminded me of someone and I just thought, maybe... I'm really sorry."

"'Salright. You didn't know."

The two of you prepped the tea, boiling the kettle before steeping the leaves.

"This is his jacket, actually," you finally continued. "I forgot to give it back to him after he gave me a cab ride. Or...Uber, actually. He uses a vintage cab as his Uber car."

Steven almost dropped the cup and saucer he was holding. "That so?"

"Yeah, he helped me last night. Like I said, I forgot to give him back his jacket. He was kind, and when he smiled...he reminded me of you."

"O-of me?" Steven cleared his throat.

"Yeah." You shrugged. "Anyway, I'm sorry about the brother thing, but I just wondered. He had like this 1980s mustache though."

Steven, who had just brought a sip of tea to his lips spat it right back into his teacup, coughing a few times. "You're not serious. A silly little tache?"

You giggled. "Yes. I told him it was dashing. He wore it well. But he reminded me of you somehow. American lad though. Thick accent."

"Mmm," Steven nodded, cleaning up the mess he'd made. "I'm happy Jake was able to help you."

Your eyes went wide. "I didn't tell you his name."

Steven's mouth dropped open. "Right. I actually know him. Flat cap? Mustache?" He pointed at you. "Leather jacket, cab?"

"Oh," you gasped, smiling. "Don't you think you guys could be related?"

Pressing his lips together, Steven answered diplomatically. "Never really thought about it exactly like that, but...yes, I suppose so."

He paused for a moment before growing more serious. "So what's going on with your boyfriend? Or, ex-boyfriend, I hope."

"Yes, definitely," you assured him, attempting to explain what you'd gone through lately and how you suspected your boyfriend of working for a crime boss of some sort.

"As much as I love this flat, I'm even scared for you to live in this shit hole building with him, Steven. I think he's really dangerous."

As if waiting for his cue, your boyfriend pounded on Steven's front door, demanding, in foul language, to be let in.

"Do not open that," you warned him, but it was too late. His hunched shoulders squared up, chiseled jaw clenching. A deep wrinkle appeared between dark eyebrows as the typical twinkle in his eye went cold.

"Steven, no, don't!" You watched in horror as he yanked open the door, grabbed your boyfriend by the collar and dragged him inside. Kicking the door shut with one foot, he slammed the taller man against the wall, nostrils flaring as his eyes flashed.

Your boyfriend shouted an insulting protest, but with one, precise jab to his throat, he was rendered speechless and left gasping for air.

"Listen to me, asshole," Steven spat, but his voice sounded entirely different. It came out as a growl. And...American.

It couldn't be. Jake? But it didn't sound like him either.

"You're never touching anyone again," he went on, menacingly. “You're never coming back here again. You're moving out. Right now." He pointed to you with one hand. "Lose their number."

Your boyfriend raged, struggling against Steven's powerful, one-handed grip, but he still couldn't speak.

"You think your boss will protect you?" He taunted. "Your boss is a pussy. He's already dead. And you're next." Roughly releasing him, he motioned him out the door condescendingly. "Better run."

With a hopeless glance your way, he was gone.

Steven's head dropped as he waited for your reaction.

You finally whispered his name, inching closer. "Are you American? I don't understand."

Finally meeting your eyes, he answered, "I'm Marc. I'll let Steven explain."

Shoulders hunched and hands drawn to his chest, Steven came back to you, fidgeting uncertainly. "Bit of a long story. Want that tea now?"

Then he explained how you'd spent the entire night with one man, occasionally fielding questions like, "wait, you're the white mummy man?" And, "wait...you're Jake?"

Steven laughed sheepishly. "In a manner of speaking."

"Oh good, I can give you your jacket back. Wait - where's your mustache?"

The thought of Jake wearing a fake mustache was so hilariously endearing to you.

Steven let you take a nap on his couch and use his washroom to freshen up. Later, he ordered takeaway for an early supper. The two of you talked, trying to come up with plan to help you move on with your life.

"I know this is weird to say at a time like this, but...I've always had a little bit of a crush on you."

"On me?" Steven almost choked on his food. "I never knew."

"It's stupid, really. Just ignore me."

"Not at all. But can I ask you a question? Why did you stay with that plonker?"

You shrugged helplessly, shaking your head. "I guess I never knew there was anything better."

Angstember Masterlist || Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

#angstember #angstember24challenge #oscar isaac characters #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #prompt: I never knew

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h3avens4ngel · 9 months

Text

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: bratty Steven, jealousy, pussy eating! Face eating, switch Steven, slightly argument, reader slightly insecure about not showering after work, pussy fiend Steven, kissing, language, pet names (love, honey, sweet girl, sweetheart, perfect girl), mentions of Jake

Steven was so possessive at times. He hated whenever another man went up and flirted with you during your shifts. He’d scoff to himself and death glare the men, trying to look as intimidating as he could, yet protesting whenever Jake said he could take care of it.

Today was one of those days. You came home later than Steven, the museum had you doing some late shifts and Steven got the earlier shifts. “Hi baby” you bubbly smiled as you locked the door to Steven’s flat.

You turned around looking for Steven and getting a little taken aback to see Steven sitting on the couch with a bothered look on his face. “You ok?”

Steven didn’t answer, all he did was nod. You knew that meant no. “What’s the matter Steven” you worriedly hurried toward him, sitting next to him and fully facing him. “Nothing love” he muttered in a semi whiney tone.

“Steven what’s wrong” you sigh “nothing! Nothing at all. You seem to be occupied already” he hissed in a brattish tone “huh?” You raised an eyebrow at his words, occupied? With what?

“My job? Steven you know I can’t control the shifts they give me” you sigh, leaning into his shoulder and kissing his jaw “I’m not talking about your shifts!” He yells.

“What the hell Steven? I can’t read your mind!” You reply back in the same tone “that damn new guy pfft. With his stupid American accent ‘how are you today’ oh how he loves to talk” Steven muttered.

You tried not to laugh at Steven’s American accent, cute. “You’re jealous” you chuckled. Stevens cheeks turned a light shade of pink as you smiled over at him “you don’t need to be jealous Steven, I love you and only you. You know that already don’t you?” you cooed.

“I- I’m not jealous”

“Mmhm” you giggled. Steven was cute when he was all flustered and embarrassed, he was SO jealous. How adorable.

Steven’s breath hitched as you straddled him, pushing him back onto the couch and running your hands through his curly locks “look at me” you whispered.

Steven stared up at you puppy eyed and flushed “I only want you, only you Steven. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend than you” you hummed. Your lips softly pressed kisses onto his lips and down his neck “you’re all I could ever ask for Steven”

His hands were on his sides and head thrown back as you began to make your way back up to his mouth “I’m sorry” he whined. His hands shakily moved up to your hips “I- I was being a bit harsh” He quietly admitted.

You chuckled, nodding at his change in demeanor as he lowered his head and began to apology kiss all over you neck. “You were” you agreed.

Steven whined in response, feeling guilty, he was determined to make it up to you. “I’m sorry honey, I’m so so sorry.” He whispered, his lips pressing soft kisses and hands trembling as he hiked your skirt up.

“Let me give you one part of my apology sweetheart? You’re always nothing but sweet my perfect girl. But I let my thoughts get the best of me yeah?” He softly smiled. “Jealousy looks cute on you” you tease, a moan spilling from his pretty plump lips as you began to grind onto his lap.

“Let me make it up to you love?” He muttered, his mouth in agar as he tried to keep himself calm. “Of course” you hummed.

And with that Steven gently pushed you onto the couch, his hands exploring your body while trying to contain himself. “Fucking hell” he hissed after one look at how soaked your pretty lace panties were. Steven gawked at the way you were all gushy and sticky for him already.

As one of his fingers feasibly pulled past your panties and ran down you folds, Steven let out an audible moan. You were expecting a good fucking but once you saw Steven lick his lips, you got a little worried.

Sure you loved when he ate you out like it was the last meal he’ll ever get but you had been working all day you felt like that wasn’t the best choice.

Steven eagerly tugged your panties down and lowering himself down to your cunt “Steven I haven’t showered yet not th-“ you tried to protest but before you could finish your sentence he shushed you and muttered an I could care less.

You gasped as his soft tongue lapped at your puffy folds as he carelessly pulled you onto his mouth. It was so overwhelming feeling Steven buried between your thighs but he felt like it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, wanted to feel you completely immersed in him.

He pulled back hastily, pulling you up and taking your position as he lightly manhandled you. You were in complete shock at how easily he could lift you up and carelessly mold you into place. Steven was never usually this bold.

“Sit on my face lovey, come on honey” he whined as you sat up on his lap. You stared at him in shock but didn’t dare to not comply “I- yea- ok” you muttered. For the first time, you were the one stuttering, not him.

Steven tried to hide his smile but it was no use, he motion you up and yanked you forward the second you started scooting forward.

Steven felt like a jerk and a complete idiot for letting his worries and insecurities all out on you. He felt like it was a little unfair to eat you out as an apology since it was certainly no punishment for him.

You chuckled as Steven eagerly wrapped his arms around your thighs, salivating at the sight of your pussy “oh fu-“ you gasped as he pulled you onto his face, a loud moaning coaxing out of him as you sink onto his mouth.

You try and lift yourself up for his comfort but to his protest, he groans and sinks his nails in your thighs “sit f’me” he mumbled into you pussy. Steven was getting needier by the second, the taste of your natural scent mixed with delicious slick coating his tongue was overwhelming.

His hips thrusted subconsciously into the air, his whines and moans growing in intensity as you pulled at his pretty brown hair “stevennn oh my go-“ you shakily squealed, a high pitch moan filling his ears as you began to throb in his mouth.

He could feel your poor throbbing clit against his tongue encouraging him to lap and swirl his tongue at what was his “mine, al- all mine mmhmm” he panted. Steven messily ate you out as he watched you begin to shake above him.

You were in shock by the way he had you in his grip, he wasn’t going to let go until he showed you how sorry he was. The feeling of his soft wet tongue expertly swirling around your clit was something you could never get tired of, neither of you could.

“I- I’m gonna I- Steven oh fuckk” you gasped as you slumped forward. His moans grew even louder as you pushed deeper into him. All you could hear was muffled whines and moans as he began rubbing his hips against the cushion for some friction, hoping his pants would tug on his painfully hard boner.

Steven let out a loud moan as he came into his boxers, his loads coating and messily seeping through his thin boxers. You softly sat yourself back into his lap, letting him ride out his orgasm and encourage him as you softly grind onto him.

Steven looked so pretty like this, eyes squeezed shut as he threw his head back in bliss. He was panting and whining as he came down from his orgasm “I love you so much, my sweet girl.”

#masterlist #steven grant #smut #moon knight #moonknight #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moonknight smut

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projectionistwrites · 2 years

Text

FOR SCIENCE | SUBJECT 1

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Steven Grant x afab!psychologist!reader (8.0k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: fetishization of mental disorders (DID), psychoanalysis, potentially unethical scientific practices, SMUT (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f! and m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, intense overstimulation, non-ejaculatory orgasm, cumplay, cum eating, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the stoplight system) NOTES: steven is my baby. he deserves the world. i hope i did his character justice. DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

← previous part | next part →

CASE STUDY: STEVEN GRANT

ROLE IN SYSTEM: Caretaker / Internal Self-Helper

ATTACHMENT STYLE: Preoccupied

CHARACTERISTICS: timid, introverted, sensitive, unassertive; inferiority complex; the epitome of a people pleaser.

SPLIT FROM HOST: assumedly a result of simultaneous emotional and physical abuse from mother.

TRAUMA RESPONSE: alter likely emerged as a way to maintain the childhood innocence of the host; a personification of the word 'hope'.

SEXUAL PRESENTATION: shy, reserved, submissive, responsive, doting; views relationship as transactional (i.e. his only value is derived from what he can provide to a partner, whether that be physically, fiscally, materially, or emotionally); incredibly receptive to praise and validation.

Silence.

It filled the room and weighed heavy in the air—only interrupted by the buzzing of the filter in Gus’ fish tank near the center of the apartment.

You swallowed.

Why did it have to be Steven first?

You knew why. You’d made the decision deliberately, carefully—Steven was the softest, most vulnerable and hesitant. The most emotionally mature, but also the most emotionally fragile. Sensitive, caring, empathetic, loving—he really, truly cared. That’s why he had to go first. This was more than just an excuse to have sex with you—this was intimacy, passion, a closeness he so desperately craved. And you knew, deep down, he’d be comparing himself to his other alters. Envying their confidence, their forwardness, their unapologetic sexual prowess. Steven had always felt inferior—you needed to prove to him that that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

But still. As much as you cared for him, as much as you were looking forward to getting to know him physically, in that moment, you desperately wished for a hint of Marc’s initiative, or even a sliver of Jake’s assertiveness.

Steven was sat on the couch, hunched over, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Nervous energy pulsed from his body in waves—his clear stress wasn’t doing anything to help with your own trepidation.

You shuffled beside him, crossing one leg over the other at the ankles. You drew in a breath.

“Do you... do we need to go over anything again?”

He flinched at your intrusion on the silence—without sparing you a glance, he offered a brief shake of his head.

“Well, I think we should go over it one more time, just in case. So. Today is—is about you. Whatever you say goes. Obviously, I have my limits, but, I mean, I really don’t see that being much of a problem with any of you—except maybe Jake...”

You digressed, but the mention of his alters clearly ruffled Steven’s feathers, even if he hid it well. You continued.

“And—and you’ll be fronting the whole time. No co-consciousness, or interruption from the others. Right?”

Steven nodded again, more firmly this time.

“Okay. And lastly—well, I’ve thought about it, and—and I think we should be fine without condoms.”

That got Steven’s attention. His head turned to you, eyes wide with bewilderment.

“What?”

You looked away abashedly, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“I just—I’ve got the implant, and well—Marc gave me documentation confirming that you’re negative for any STI’s, which—so am I. So I figure—unless you’re gonna be having sex with anyone else in the time this experiment is being conducted, then—then I think we should be fine... for now.”

“You told us we had to be abstinent in the week between each experimental window.”

You laughed at this, amused at the incredulity in his voice.

“Oh, so you were planning on seeing someone else in between, then?”

His face flushed with alarm as he attempted to backtrack.

“Wha—no! No, I didn’t mean—you just—you said we should refrain from doin’ anything, as in—anything. So I just—”

“Relax, Steven, I’m just teasing you.”

You giggled, reaching to grip his bicep reassuringly. Your fingers making contact with his body seemed to jostle him—he stared down at the place your fingers wrapped around his arm, electricity crackling from your fingers and lighting a fire in his belly. He swallowed.

His sudden attention to your presence grounded you back into reality as well. You felt the taut muscles of his bicep flex beneath your hand, the parting of Steven’s lips and fluttering of his lashes making your breath stumble.

When he looked up at you, finally, his eyes were dark—lustful, desirous. Still, there was a sense of restraint within him, his diffidence preventing him from moving unto you further. You realized that you would likely have to make the first move.

“Steven.”

You spoke softly, drawing him in.

“Are you—do you feel ready?”

For a moment, he looked terrified, like a deer caught in headlights. He glanced away from you for a moment, trying to reason with himself, to will the anxiety away. You squeezed his arm.

“You don’t have to do this, Steven, really. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I want this.”

“But Steven, really, it’s alright—”

“No, you don’ understand—I really, really want this.”

His words were breathy, but certain, the desire in his tone undeniable. You felt your breath hitch at his confession, and before either of you had time to worry about it anymore, you closed the gap between you, pushing yourself up against his side and tilting your head so your lips met his. He whined into your mouth, his initial hesitance wearing off and making way for his insatiable hunger for your touch, your taste, you.

His hands reached to grip the back of your head, fingers threading in your hair as he pulled you closer, forcing your lips to meld against his deeply. You leaned into him, allowing yourself to shift into his lap, your thighs straddling his. As you settled your weight onto him, he audibly groaned as your core pressed against the hardening tent in his pants. Your hands traveled up his chest and along his shoulders as your tongue explored his mouth. He fought back with equal fervor, and you could sense that there was a hint of desperation in him—as if he was finally acting upon the months worth of repressed sexual tension between the two of you.

You pulled away with a gasp, coming up for air as you lifted your chin slightly, away from the chase of his lips. Instead, they began a sloppy assault on your throat, mouthing and teething at the supple flesh of your neck and down into your collarbone. You let out a breathy moan as Steven lavished your skin with attention, quickly gaining the confidence to suck a mark into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You keened.

“God, Steven.”

The sound of his name falling from your lips was heaven. He pulled you back down for another searing kiss, and you offered an experimental nip to the swell of his bottom lip. He groaned.

“Christ, you’re a minx.”

His voice was throaty, gravelly, and you giggled at his comment as he pressed kisses to the corners of your mouth and the surrounding flesh of your cheeks.

“Should we... do you want to move to the bed?”

You asked quietly, and the man stiffened, clearly enticed by the proposal.

“Yes. Gods, yes.”

You regretfully pulled yourself from his lap and he followed immediately after, reaching for your hand as you guided him back towards his bed. It was neatly made, the corners tucked in and the blankets pressed. For some reason, it made you want to cry. You’d been at his flat plenty of times before, but never had you once seen his bed made up so tidy. He did that for you.

As you reached the end of the bed, you hesitated. You had taken the lead, carefully easing Steven into the interaction, but now, you needed to see what he wanted. You looked to him.

“What—where do you want me?”

He swore he almost blacked out at the sheer compliance that your tone offered. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tight in an effort to slow the rapidly building arousal in his groin—you hadn’t even fucking touched him yet.

“Would you—could you just lay down f’me, love?”

You smiled at him gratefully, offering a small nod at you followed his careful instruction. You shuffled up towards the head of the bed, turning to lie flat on your back with your head propped against the pillows. You looked at Steven expectantly—he was just watching you, fists slowly clenching and unclenching at his sides. Christ, you were a sight to beheld.

Cautiously, Steven lowered onto his hands and knees and crawled up towards you, allowing himself to hover over your body with his own, his waist slotting between the parting of your legs. He rested on his elbows, forearms framing your head as he gazed down at you. The sheer reverence and devotion in his eyes was almost too much to bear.

“Bloody hell, you’re gorgeous.”

He mumbled, fingers moving to stroke your hairline, tracing the curvatures of your face. You smiled softly before tilting your head upwards to close the small space that remained between you. These kisses were softer—slow, gentle, repeated slides of his lips against yours. It made you feel lightheaded.

You reached for the hem of his jumper.

“I—can I?”

You questioned against his lips, and he nodded slowly, sitting upright to help you pull the top up and over his head. He flung it to the side carefully, and you spread your hands out against the warmth of his torso, the ring finger on your left hand just barely brushing his right nipple. He hissed as the feeling of your cold hands pressed into his abdomen, but at the same time, the sensation was intoxicating. You let your fingers slide up towards his chest, skating across both of his hardened nipples before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back to you. He happily obliged, malleable under your touch, but you could feel his fingers twitching as if desperate to touch you. You pushed him back slowly, reaching to take off your own shirt.

“Wait.”

Steven panicked, and you froze, a flash of hurt cresting your face. But he just smiled gently.

“Can—let me.”

He offered, and you laid back, letting his fingers skim the flesh of your stomach as he gripped the hem and pulled the fabric away from you. You sat up briefly to allow him to pull it completely off, revealing your simple white lace bra beneath it. You watched him drink you in, completely infatuated. His hands skated up your sides, over the curve of your hip and across your ribs, but they halted before they reached any further. You nodded in encouragement.

“It’s okay, Steven. You can touch me.”

A whimper escaped his mouth as he slowly reached up the palm at your breast, still contained in the cup of your bra. He could feel the peak of your nipple through the fabric as he massaged the flesh carefully, kneading and squeezing. The sigh you let out spurred him on, and he reached behind you towards the clasp, eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a warm smile and nod, and his fingers worked to unclip the material beneath you. After a few brief seconds of his fumbling, his brows furrowed in frustration.

“What the—bollocks, why’s it so bloody hard to undo?”

Your saccharine giggle melted his annoyance as you offered him assistance, reaching behind you to unlatch the hooks. When it was finally unclasped, the cups loosening their hold on your breasts, he let out a shaky breath, gripping the straps and watching them glide down your arms until you were topless beneath him.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as he watched your body react to his touch. Tracing beneath the swell of your left breast, dancing across the valley between them, repeating the movement on the right side. Goosebumps trailed in his wake as he stared, utterly entranced at the softness of your skin and the rhythm of your breathing.

His eyes met yours once more, and stayed there as he slowly leaned down and pulled your right nipple into his mouth. You mewled at the action, back arching just slightly as his other hand came to cup your other tit, massaging it gently as he sucked at your flesh. He switched sides, lavishing your other nipple with equal attention, and even offering an experimental nip to the swollen bud, earning a cry from you—a mix between a sharp pain, quickly soothed with the swipe of his tongue.

You hardly noticed when his lips began pressing kisses lower across your chest, your breasts, across the expanse of your stomach, until his lips were skating over your navel, just above the button of your jeans. His dark eyes found yours, and he offered you a silent question, to which you immediately nodded. His trembling fingers reached to undo the button—with which he had much more success than your bra—and pulled the zipper down. As he slowly coaxed the fabric away from your skin, he pressed two hot kisses against each of your hip bones before pulling the pants completely off and discarding them nearby.

His hands roamed the newly exposed skin of your thighs, fingers creating divots in the soft flesh with his firm grip. He leaned down and pressed his lips against your calf, sliding them upwards until he reached your inner thigh. You whimpered at his proximity to where you needed him most, but he evaded you by switching to mirror the same path on your other side. Your toes curled in frustration.

“Steven.”

You huffed, head thrown back, and his head popped upwards, eyes wide with concern.

“Stop teasing.”

His gaze softened, and you felt his lips press right above your pubic bone, where the waistband of your panties was settled.

“Sorry, m’love, I couldn’t help it. I’ll make it better, I promise.”

His fingers gripped the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down your legs, successfully leaving you completely bare beneath him. You had half the mind to feel insecure at the exposure, but when you caught sight of the look on Steven's face, his eyes transfixed on the sopping folds of your cunt, any hesitance was thrown out the window.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

He whispered, letting the pointer finger on his left hand just barely graze between your pussy lips to gather some of your wetness, causing your hips to jolt. He let out a short ‘ha’ sound at your reaction to his touch.

“Is this—s’this all f’me?”

He looked at you again, lips parted and eyes hooded. You nodded vigorously.

“Yes, Steven, yes—all for you.”

He rewarded you with a groan, his finger offering another, firmer swipe through your folds, easily sliding through with the slick of your arousal. The tip of his finger caught on the hood of your clit and your hips jumped again. Instead of removing his finger, he slid it back downwards, slowly circling the entrance of your pussy with careful ministrations. Before you could even ask, he pushed his middle finger deep inside you, curling forward, and almost instantly, the pad of his digit nudged at the most sensitive part of you. You cried out at the abrupt sensation, hips unconsciously grinding down against his hand. He smiled wickedly.

“Ah—there you are.”

He mumbled to himself, repeating the motion once more to ensure he had located the spot where your sensitivity peaked. Again, your body followed the movement of his hand, and he easily added a second finger, slowly beginning to pump them in and out of you, all while continuing the well-received come-hither motion. You squeezed your eyes shut, core muscles clenched as pleasure spread from your cunt upwards, and then his thumb found your clit and you were reeling.

“Oh, fuck, Steven, shit—oh God, I can’t, m’gonna—”

His free hand came up to stroke your hair tenderly, eyes peeling away from where they were watching where his fingers sank into you to ogle at the face you'd make as you climaxed.

“That’s it, love. Doin’ so well. C’mon, give it to me.”

Your orgasm reached its peak, toes curling and back arching as you let out a salacious, pornographic moan, thrusting in time with Steven’s diligent fingers as he coaxed every last drop of pleasure from your dripping folds. Your skin buzzed with sensitivity as the waves of stimulation rippled through you—your breathing was labored when you came down from your high, sinking back into the mattress and grounding yourself back in reality.

Steven pressed a kiss to your lips, which you accepted gratefully, although your energy was significantly less than his—he didn’t seem to mind. He pulled away, just barely, noses brushing together in a moment of intimacy. You felt dizzy.

“So good, Steven—make me feel so good.”

You rambled, hot breath fanning across his face. He glowed at your praise, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. Even after your first orgasm, your hunger for him was nowhere near sated. Your walls were clenching around nothing, desperate for the hot drag of his cock inside of you.

Something resembling a whimper came from the back of your throat, and Steven’s eyes found yours, softening.

“I know, darling, I know. S’alright, I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”

Your fingers trailed down his stomach and covertly ghosted over the skin right atop the waistband of his jeans. Fuck, he still had his jeans on?

You reached for the button, and Steven took the hint, pulling them off of himself rather ungracefully and tossing them to the side. He was left in just his boxers, and when your hand stroked over the hard outline of his cock within them, he hissed, almost as if he were in pain. He recoiled from your touch just slightly, and you felt brief concern at the reaction. He squinted one eye open at you, wincing.

“Careful, please, love, I—don’t want this to end too quickly.”

“Whatever you want, Steven, I’m yours.”

You breathed, fingers caressing the side of his face and beneath his jawline. He grunted at your words, still fighting to maintain control of his body. It only served to turn you on more. When your fingers once more reached for the band of his boxers, he interrupted you with a kiss.

“Patience, love, s’alright.”

"Want you so bad."

You cried against his mouth, absolutely desperate, and you felt the stutter of his exhale as he pulled away.

“I know, I know, but I—Gods, ’m sorry, but I just have to taste you.”

You barely had time to process his words before his head was between your thighs, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the inner flesh between them. Your eyes fluttered closed just as he licked a long, experimental stripe between your folds, making you jerk up towards him involuntarily.

Your cunt was puffy and swollen from your previous orgasm, but Steven wasted no time diving in. He let the tip of his tongue dance around your bundle of nerves, suckling it into his mouth and humming at the taste. The vibrations traveled all the way through you, and you moaned, head thrown back in ecstasy. You tried to force your legs from caging him in, but when he noticed the strain in your muscles, he tucked his arms beneath your thighs and let your knees rest on his strong shoulders, allowing him an even better angle with which to pleasure you.

He changed course, tongue now prodding at your entrance, pushing in and out carefully and slowly. At the feeling of your walls clenching, Steven jostled just slightly, the bridge of his nose rubbing against your clit just right. You cried out, fingers flying to fist at his dark curls, pulling him back in against you.

“Fuck, do that again, Steven, please.”

Steven wasn’t one to deny you of what you wanted. He obliged, repeating the motion, his tongue penetrating you rhythmically and his nose pressed against your clit in a way that had you seeing stars. You thighs tightened around his head, and you felt more than you heard the groan that it pulled from him. You were suddenly teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“God, Steven, gonna make me cum, don’t stop, please—”

Steven maintained his pace, smart enough to know not to speed up or slow down or change up his rhythm at all as your toes curled. You briefly opened your eyes, and the sight in front of you toppled you over the cliff—Steven’s dark eyes staring up at you, the lower half of his face buried in your cunt, his hips rutting up against the mattress unconsciously as he watched you come undone. You practically sobbed as the shockwaves overwhelmed you, your thighs squeezing Steven’s head and holding him in place as you tugged at his hair. He happily lapped up your arousal, the taste of you lingering on his tongue when he finally pulled away after you had stopped squirming.

You tasted yourself on his lips when he kissed you, and the sight of your slick coating his chin and smeared across his cheeks was one of the most attractive things you’d ever seen. You smiled at him with hooded eyes, still coming down from your high.

“Please, will you fuck me now, Steven?”

You pleaded, and Steven groaned, pressing his still-covered cock against the heat of your pussy.

“Oh, yes, please, can I?”

He asked for confirmation, because of course he did, he’s Steven, and you nodded feverishly, watching with lustful eyes as he pulled his boxers down, his length finally released from the confines of the fabric. It stood at full height, long and big but not too thick, and you practically felt yourself drooling at the sight. His head was flushed a deep reddish purple, sheened with precum that had accumulated there. There was a prominent vein that ran up the underside of his shaft, and all you wanted to do was run your tongue along it. Steven caught you staring and grimaced, moaning lowly.

“Christ, darling, you keep lookin’ at me like that and ’m not gonna be able to last.”

His hand reached down and gave a few strokes to his cock, pumping it as he moved in towards you. He leaned down over you once again, eyes finding yours, and you felt the tip rub up and down your folds a few times. Steven’s lips were parted in pleasure, his breathing ragged. You felt the head of his cock barely breach the entrance of your pussy.

“Is this—are you sure?”

He asked you one final time, fingers reaching to stroke your hair. Instead of answering, you pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, and slowly, slowly, he pushed into you.

The groan that escaped him was hellish, sinful, practically animalistic as he sheathed himself within you, pushing in to the hilt until he was buried completely in the warmth of your walls. Your eyes never left his face, absolutely living for his expressions of pleasure—his pinched brows, parted lips, heavy breaths. His eyes were squeezed shut as he held himself there for a moment, offering you time to get settled. You didn’t need time. He had opened you up plenty, and your wet channel practically swallowed him with need.

“Alright?”

He breathed, checking to see if you were experiencing any discomfort. You nodded at him and offered a roll of your hips upward, your clit rubbing up against his pubic bone deliciously. He whimpered, pulling his cock out just enough before rocking back into you. You mewled, pressing your face into his shoulder as he repeated the motion, pulling out a bit more each time as he gained confidence and momentum. Soon, he was thrusting into you steadily, each move punctuated by barely audible ‘uh, uh, uh’ sounds from his lips as he lost himself in the feeling of you.

“Yes, Steven, fuck. Fucking me so well, such a good boy.”

That awoke something in him, and his pace faltered just barely, hips stuttering as he let out a high-pitched whine.

“Shit, shit, don’t—you can’t just—I’m not gonna last, Y/N, fuck.”

The look on his face was pained, sweat sheened on his forehead from how hard he was restraining himself. You wanted—you needed to see him fall apart.

“Want you to cum for me, Steven.”

You hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and he whimpered, shaking his head as he continued pounding into you.

“No, please, not yet, want—want you to cum on my cock.”

He sounded desperate, frantic, but you could feel within yourself that you weren’t going to get there soon, and he couldn’t hold out much longer. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into you as you cradled his face in your hands, forcing his eyes on yours.

“Need you to cum, Steven, please—please, please, need you to cum for me—”

You clenched your muscles, walls clamping down on him, and with a sharp cry of your name, his cum spilled deep inside you, cock fully nested in your cunt as his spend coated your walls and filled you with warmth. His hips kept thrusting into you, almost of their own volition, forcing his seed deeper and deeper into you as he grunted with each move, face contorted in a look of sheer bliss.

Your hands were stroking his back, fingers tracings patterns on the soft skin as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in the crook on your neck, his cock still sheathed within you.

“Good boy.”

You whispered repeatedly, lips pressed to his temple as he caught his breath and tried to slow the rapid thumping of his heart.

“Such a good boy.”

He let out a sigh, nose pressed into the side of your neck as he closed his eyes, allowing himself a few moments to sit in the moment and really feel it. The softness of your body beneath him, the comforting swirl of your fingers on his back, the quiet hum of praise eliciting from your lips. He wanted to live in this moment forever.

You shifted, just slightly, from beneath him, and he immediately jumped into action. He pressed a chaste peck to your lips before pulling out of you slowly, taking a second to appreciate the view of his cum leaking out of you before he made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a warm wet washcloth to clean you up. When he came back, he just had his boxers on, but the toned taupe of his skin still made you blush. His eyes regarded you warmly, reverently, as he wiped away both of your combined arousals from your folds, touch gentle and careful. When he was done, he reached onto the floor to grab his jumper, sitting back up and offering it to you. You smiled graciously, holding your arms in the air like an expectant child as Steven slipped it over your head, pulling your arms through and straightening it down over your body.

God, you looked good in his clothes.

He crawled beside you, nestling in next to you, body curling to fit the curvature of your side. His head found its place in the crook of your neck, the smell of your skin sweet, and he hummed in contentment, relaxing into you. You smiled softly, reaching up to stroke his hair.

“Is... Is this what you’d normally do after sex?”

You asked carefully, hesitantly, afraid to lose the intimacy of the moment. Steven bristled at your words, just slightly, before he sank further into your embrace.

“I mean... in what little experience I have, yeah, I’d say so.”

He offered, voice laced with grogginess, his eyelids drooping. You giggled quietly at his sudden exhaustion, finding the sight quite endearing.

“So you want me to stay, then?”

He lifted his head at your question, worry reflecting in his big brown eyes.

“Did—do you not want to?”

He asked hurriedly, preparing himself for your rejection, but you shook your head defensively.

“No, no! I’m just—this is about you, and what you want out of sex. Do you... I mean, would you expect me to spend the night?”

Steven’s stare was reminiscent of a puppy as he looked up at you, seeming almost lost. Hesitantly, he nodded his head, confirming that he wanted you to stay with him. You smiled softly, pressing a kiss atop his forehead.

“Great—then I’ll stay.”

He relaxed back into you, eyes closing almost immediately, his breaths slowing. After a few minutes, you’d assumed he’d fallen asleep, but then his voice called out softly in the silence.

“M’sorry, by the way.”

Your brows furrowed.

“Sorry? For—for what?”

A long sigh. He buried his face further into your shoulder, hiding himself.

“I didn’t get to—I mean, you weren’t able to—I wanted you to, you know—before me.”

Oh.

His innocent avoidance of vulgarity melted your heart, as it was obviously something he struggled to speak about regularly. You pulled your head back, turning to face him, and he lifted his eyes, cheek smushed against your collarbone. You smiled at him, a hand coming to stroke his cheek.

“Don’t be sorry, Steven. It was perfect.”

You assured, and although he would normally never believe it, something in your eyes was genuine. His lips turned upward at the corners.

“Yeah?”

He asked, excited at the prospect of your validation, and you laughed shortly, smiling wide.

“Yeah.”

With that, Steven let his body meld against yours, finally allowing himself to relax completely and relish in the feeling of being so close to you.

Your mind was already racing with ideas for tomorrow’s trial.

POINTS OF CONTENTION:

- being open to unconditional care without obligation of reciprocation

- feeling adequate and worthy of affections

- accepting praise and compliments without denial or doubt

TREATMENT: - receive without giving - deserving of everything and anything (should not have guilt over being pleasured) - high praise and validation

Twelve hours, that was the deal. You needed at least twelve hours apart before you could begin the second phase of research. Partially to record the data you needed and begin developing a profile, but mostly because you knew that both the boys and you would need time to recuperate before going at it again.

Especially Steven.

Standing outside his apartment door, you were somehow more nervous this time around than you were yesterday. You’d spent the night with him, wrapped in each other’s arms, and you’d left early that morning, promising to return in the evening after the appropriate time had elapsed. You’d showered, eaten, relaxed, but mostly, you’d planned. The key to this study, you’d realized, wasn’t actually the sex at all—it was about challenging the alters, exploiting their vulnerabilities. Exposure therapy.

Sexual interactions are intimate. They are reflective of some of our deep-rooted, unconscious desires, and are significantly related to events that occurred in our childhood that shaped our attachments styles. Certain sexual preferences, turn-ons, fetishes, and kinks, are indicative of different cognitive dispositions. You were trying to figure the boys out—using what they wanted to get to what they needed.

You had predicted Steven’s diagnosis from the start.

When the door to his flat swung inward, his eyes were crinkled at the corners from his smile. He looked soft—rosy pink cheeks, mussed brunette curls, baggy sweats—almost as if he’d just woken up. You returned his grin, slipping past him and into the threshold of his flat.

The door slammed shut behind him, and you turned to him, surprised to be met with a slow, deep, passionate kiss, his lips lingering on yours for just a moment before he pulled away.

You blinked.

“Wow.”

You whispered, slightly reeling. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks. Steven looked down sheepishly.

“Oh, goodness, I don’t—m’sorry, love, I wasn’t really thinking, I just—missed you, s’all.”

He confessed, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully. His words pulled at your heartstrings and you walked into him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your chin on his chest so you were looking up at him.

“No, don’t be sorry, just—took me by surprise.”

You smiled.

“Hell of a welcome, though.”

He smiled, letting out a nervous breath.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You nodded, tilting your head upwards to capture his mouth with your own again. He hummed against you, one hand coming to cup the side of your face and the other pulling you in closer by your waist. His tongue swiped at your bottom lip, and you immediately submitted, parting your lips to grant him full access. He started walking backwards towards the couch, but you pulled away to stop him.

“Bed.”

You whispered, your fuck-me eyes almost making him feel faint. He nodded obediently, kissing you again, and changed direction, guiding you to the other side of the flat. The back of Steven’s calves collided with the mattress and he fell backwards into a sitting position onto the bed, but you stayed standing between his parted legs.

“What’re you doin’, love?”

He asked, laughing almost nervously. You just smirked down at him, leaning over to capture his lips once more. You hands were on his shoulders, traveling down his back and around his neck. His found your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there as you continued your passionate making out. Finally, you pulled away, but stayed close, nose still brushing his. His eyes were closed.

“Steven.”

You whispered, and he hummed in acknowledgement, an expression of contentment on his face.

“Are you ready?”

His eyes fluttered open, his gaze focusing in on you. Your lip was pulled between your teeth, as if contemplating something.

“Ready? For... for what, exactly?”

You leaned a bit away from him, standing up to your full height. You looked down at him, stroking his hair comfortingly as you addressed him.

“We’re—I’m gonna try something, okay? But I need you to know that you can stop me at any time. Do you know the stoplight system?”

His big brown eyes looked up at you, and he shook his head.

“It’s a technique for safe words. So if I’m doing something and you want me to stop, you say red. If you need me to slow down, you say yellow, and if you’re doing okay and want me to keep going, you say...”

“Green.”

He finished for you, slightly breathless with anticipation. You nodded down at him proudly.

“Yeah, you’ve got it, good boy.”

You heard the way his breath caught in his throat at your praise, and you pressed a soft, quick kiss to his lips.

“So—are you ready?”

The way he looked at you—eyes filled with such wonder, such reverence, such infatuation—filled you with so much pride and confidence. God, you wanted to ruin this man.

“Gods, love, you’re makin’ me a bit nervous.”

He admitted sheepishly, but his breathing stuttered as you slowly lowered yourself to your knees in between his legs, placing one hand on each thigh and coaxing them farther apart. He was watching you intently.

“Don’t be nervous, sweetheart, it’s okay. But remember—you just tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

He slowly nodded, waiting earnestly for your next move. You reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it off of him and tossing it to the side. His pants followed shortly thereafter, leaving him only in his boxers. You could see just how hard he already was for you—excitement bubbled in your stomach.

He reached for your shirt, but you tutted at him condescendingly, gently guiding his hands away from you.

“No, sweetheart—this is about you.”

You whispered, returning to your position on your knees in between his legs. He was leaning back, his arms stretched out behind him as he held himself up, watching you. Your fingers were stroking at the skin of his upper thigh, where the leg of his boxers ended. Slowly, your fingers passed over his bulge with a barely-there touch, and he hissed at the ticklish sensation, the muscles of his thighs rippling with strain.

While his head was tilted back and his eyes were closed, you took advantage of his temporary distraction and leaned forward to place opened-mouth kisses on his cock through his boxers. The warm heat from your breath passed over him and he groaned, watching as you finally reached up to remove the final barrier between you.

He shifted his hips up to help, and you pulled his boxers down his legs and off of him completely—now, he was completely naked before you, and you were fully clothed.

Perfect.

You settled back in between his legs, fingers slowly creeping up his inner thigh and towards his weeping length. You looked up at him through your lashes, where he was waiting with bated breath.

“Listen to me—you’re gonna cum whenever you want to, whenever you’re ready, okay, Steven?”

He whimpered in response as your fingers skirted around his base. When he didn’t verbally answer, you stopped.

“Okay, Steven?”

“Yes, yeah, alright, yeah.”

He nodded frantically, acknowledging your instruction, and you rewarded him with a grin.

“Good boy.”

Your fingers finally wrapped around the base of his cock and he sighed, groaning as he watched you lean forward and allow a string of spit to dribble through your lips and down onto his awaiting length. You coated your hand with the slickness and started a slow, steady pace, pumping him with a slight twist of your wrist. He whimpered, particularly sensitive when your thumb stroked at the sensitive head at the end of your long up-and-down strokes.

“Shit, Y/N, oh, Gods...”

He whined, his hips slowly starting to react to your pace by thrusting upward into your fist.

“There you go, Steven, doing so well.”

You praised, speeding up the pace of your hand a bit. His lip was pulled between his teeth, as if focusing intently, and you let your other hand come up to cup at his heavy balls. This earned a low groan from him, his hips jolting with each twist of your wrist.

“Shit, shit, you’ve got to slow down, or else—oh, fuck—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I wanna see you let go. It’s okay.”

You whispered sweetly, maintaining your speed but tightening your grip just slightly. The muscles in his abdomen were visibly straining, and you could tell he was close.

“Come on, sweet boy. Cum for me.”

He let out a breathy whine, and you could feel the tightening of his balls as his stomach clenched.

“Oh, fuck, I’m cumming, Y/N, oh, mmmmh—”

You kept pumping him as thick spurts of white spilled from his tip, dripping down the sides of his pretty cock as he throbbed beneath your touch. You allowed his spend to drip over your fingers and knuckles as you continued stroking him, pace slowing just slightly, but not entirely.

His head was thrown back, still reeling with aftershocks, and—fuck.

He jolted when he felt the hot sting of your lips, tongue swirling over the head of his cock, cum still dripping over your hands as your wrist twisted around the base. He cried out, hips thrusting upwards, his legs spasming involuntarily as you began bobbing your head up and down repeatedly, eyes on his face as you watched his face scrunch up in pain.

“Oh, Gods, fuck, fuck, what are you—oh, Gods, s’too much, I can’t, stop, please—”

His hands were fisting at the blankets atop his bed, trying his best not to bury his fingers in your hair as you pulled off of him with a gasp, but your hand kept going.

“You gotta use your words, sweet boy.”

You reminded with a sympathetic tone.

“If you want me to stop, use your words.”

You leaned forward to clean up his release from the sides of his cock, tongue gliding at the same speed as your hand. He was hissing through his teeth, legs still kicking every once in awhile with overstimulation. He wasn’t responding, so maybe you should stop, maybe—

“Fuck, fuck—green! Green, I’m—it’s green.”

He cried, and you wrapped your lips back on his cock, starting to bounce your head once more. The cries that were escaping him were delicious—pathetic whines and whimpers, begging incomprehensibly as you tried to keep his cock hard beneath your touch. It was working, because you could see his abdomen clenching again, and each of his panted breaths was paired with a short grunt.

“Oh, fuck, I don’t—oh, gods, it’s—m’gonna cum again, oh, shit, oooh—”

You pushed down on his cock as far as you could take him, and the second he hit the back of your throat, he felt his orgasm rock through him. His legs curled around your back instinctually, holding you in place as his hips thrusted into your mouth. This was different, though, this—his muscles were contracting, balls tightening, but it wasn’t accompanied by his cum down your throat. You gagged on him and he practically yelped, one hand finally reaching up to grab at your hair. He pulled you off of him, and you gasped for air. Your face was red and there was spit smeared across your cheeks and down your chin. When you looked up at Steven, his eyes were red and there were tears in his eyes. Your hand was still on his cock, pumping slowly. His legs were still twitching.

You stood up, finally releasing him, and he collapsed backwards onto the bed, arms eagle-spread on either side of him, panting. But then he heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and when he looked up at you, you were undressing.

He stared at you incredulously, and you smirked at him, discarding your pants and panties simultaneously, leaving you completely bare. You approached the bed again, swinging your leg across Steven's waist to straddle him. You held yourself up just a bit so you were hovering over his cock.

“What, you think we’re done already?”

You teased, sinking down to rub your dripping folds over his still half-hard length. His hips jumped at the feeling.

“No, no, I can’t, not—”

He whimpered, and you leaned forward to shush him, giving him a quick kiss. His bottom lip quivered.

“Such a good boy, Steven—you can give me one more.”

You nodded encouragingly, and he whined, his head pressing back into the mattress with frustration. Your hand reached to stroke at his chest.

“Words, Steven. Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

You offered, suddenly serious, and he took a few deep breaths, tears trailing down his cheeks. When he opened them again, he looked wrecked, but he met your gaze.

“Green.”

It was barely a whisper, but you heard it. You reached down to wrap your fingers around his slick length once more, stroking him to coax him back to full height. He was still mostly hard, as his second orgasm had occurred in the midst of his refractory period, so fairly soon, his tip was prodding at your awaiting entrance and you stifled a mewl.

“There we go, sweet boy. You ready?”

His brows were pinched, but he nodded, and you slowly, carefully sank down on him, burying him into you all the way to the hilt. He was crying now, sitting upright to wrap his arms around you and hold you close against him as you gave him a moment to adjust. His face was pressed into your shoulder.

“Doing so, so well, for me, Steven. Just give me one more, okay? Whenever you want, whenever you’re ready, give it to me.”

You encouraged, lips pressed against his ear, and you slowly lifted up your hips, sinking back down onto him as he whined into you.

“Oooh—oooh—”

“Shh, shh—I know, sweetheart, I know.”

You cooed, cupping the back of his head with one hand as you continued to roll your hips, grinding back and forth against his lap. You were entirely focused on Steven and helping him reach his peak, but still, the way the tip of his cock prodded at something deep inside you was addictive.

“Such a big cock, Steven, fills me up so good.”

He was panting, you could feel his thighs trembling beneath you as you bounced on him, picking up your speed.

“Being such a good boy. Can you give me one more, huh? Think you can?”

He was sobbing, hips jolting every time your weight came to settle back down onto his balls, skin sticky with sweat as you held him close to you.

“Oh, please, please, please, I’m so close, oh fuck—please, I can’t—”

You bounced on him harder, feeling the ripple of tension in his shoulder blades as his body was wracked with sobs.

“Oh, yes, gonna cum, gonna cum, Y/N, gonna—oh, oh, oh fuck, fuck, fuck fuck—”

His teeth sank into the flesh of your shoulder as his cock pulsed within you, and you granted him the kindness of stopping the roll of your hips so he could thrust into you, his seed painting your walls and filling you with warmth. You could feel the hot, wet tears from his eyes against the skin of your shoulder, and you held him close to you, cradling his head against you and rocking him gently.

“Good boy, Steven, so proud of you. Did so, so well for me. My sweet, sweet boy.”

You peppered kisses to the crown of his head, burying your face in his curls as he clung to you desperately, and you stayed there until you felt the drumming of his heart slow and his breathing even out. You slowly, carefully peeled yourself away from him, his softened and sensitive cock slipping out of you as you shakily got to your feet. He whined at the loss of contact, reaching for you, but you shushed him.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

You followed his lead from yesterday, cleaning yourself up in the bathroom before bringing a damp rag to wipe away the arousal that was drying against his thighs. He hissed at your touch, but you gently cleaned him up, returning to the bathroom again. You considered slipping his jumper on, but for some reason, you felt the need to be as close to Steven as possible. You’d pushed him to his limit, and you wanted to be there for him in every sense of the word.

When you came back to the bed, you gestured for him to crawl up towards the pillows. He obliged, albeit a bit shakily, and you pulled the covers back for him as he curled up beneath them. You joined him immediately after, fitting your body to the curve of his back and wrapping your arms around his warm abdomen. You pressed a few gentle kisses against the back of his neck, the top of his spine, across his shoulders. He hummed in response.

“You feel okay?”

You asked quietly, words muffled in his skin. He scooted away so he could turn to face you. His eyes were red, but there was a glimmer of calmness in them—the high-strung Steven looked truly relaxed.

“Feel floaty.”

You laughed at his drawled words, hands reaching up to cradle his face in your hands. Your thumbs stroked against each of his cheeks gently, soothing.

“You really did so well, Steven. Thank you.”

Your eyes were soft, and you saw the way his lips quirked at the corners at your approval.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to—I mean, if you’d still like to—”

You sent him a glare, and he immediately silenced himself, gaze casting downward and away from you.

“No. This was about you, Steven, about you feeling good and that’s it. It was perfect. I loved it.”

His eyes brightened.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You assured, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. He sighed, shutting his eyes briefly as a warm, fuzzy feeling overtook him.

“S’just—wish I’d gotten the chance to—”

“Next time, Steven, okay?”

You regarded him carefully, tone gentle. His brows furrowed.

“But—my turn’s done. S’just—Marc and Jake, and then—”

“Next time.”

You reiterated, and when your words finally sank in, the smile that lit up his face was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him, embracing you tightly like he never wanted to let go.

TAGS: @kezibear143 @gingermous

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angel-of-the-moons · 10 months

Text

Small Surprises

Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Single Mother!Reader

TW/CW: Some mentions of past childhood abuse, cheating partner, mostly fluff

A/N: Like the Symbrock one I did, this one will be one whole fic with a few times skips here and there! This fic will also explore a bit more into the autistic side of Steven as a character, based off my own experiences with my autism, tics, habits etc! Also, once again, featuring snippets of the hobby headcanons done by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction! (I love those headcanons so much they are canon as far as I'm concerned asdfghjkl)

Taglist: @chrishy973 @katitakenway @queerponcho

EDIT: Part 2 is out now!!! Read it here!

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Another droll day at the museum, the same disinterested customers and more nagging from Donna. Honestly, Steven was lucky he got his job back at the museum--though he only surmised it was due to the fact nobody else wanted to work for Donna--but he was grateful for the extra income.

And it definitely helped provide a distraction from Jake's night activities for Khonshu, as well as Marc's from time to time.

But of course, even though it provided a distraction, it wasn't much of one.

That is... until the day a poofy mop of curls bounced into the gift shop, eagerly looking at the wares within with big sparkling eyes. The child couldn't have been older than four--maybe five--as she happily looked at the myriad of items available.

Contrasting to most of the little girls he's seen come in (which, were admittedly few) she didn't immediately run over to the cheap horse figures with the chariots or even the cat plushies.

She went right for things like the plushie scarabs, the statues...

This of course had Donna proverbially chewing her nails as she watched the unaccompanied minor scamper about the gift shop.

"I'm going back to do inventory," She warned Steven. "If she breaks anything, it's coming out of your pay, Stevie."

Steven ground his teeth when she called him that, and waited for her to walk away before muttering. "What little you do pay me, you bloody old biddy."

Steven fixed his name tag and walked up to the little girl, crouching next to her as her chubby little face scrunched in what appeared to be distaste.

"Hey there, poppet. What's got you upset, eh?" He asked, his big brown eyes meeting hers as she crossed her arms with a huff.

"They don't look right!" She complained.

"Oh? What doesn't look right?" Steven asked patiently, a warm smile on his face.

The child pointed to the small canvases and posters of the various Egyptian gods. Namely the ones of Bastet and Anubis, and in particular of the two, one of the canvases depicting Anubis surrounded by shrieking souls and flames.

He himself had raised a complaint with that depiction, as after his own time in the Egyptian afterlife (alongside Marc, and unbeknownst to them at the time, Jake) he knew the afterlife was not like that. While they hadn't met Anubis himself, they were guided and weighed by Taweret.

But he wholeheartedly agreed that the artwork of Anubis was entirely wrong, and frankly, offensive.

"'Nubis isn't like that." She said, stomping her little foot. "He's nice!"

Steven raised his eyebrows at her, tilting his head as some stray curls fell over his face. "Oh?" He asked. "Then tell me little one, how is Anubis?"

"He's--!" She scoffed, rolling her eyes in the typical fashion a child does when they feel like they're explaining something painfully obvious to an oblivious adult.

"He's a good dog-man." She says to him. "He doesn't mess with skulls n' stuffs! He's nice, he helps people who might get lost when they die."

'That's a hefty subject for a kid.' Marc's voice spoke.

"No kidding." Jake remarked. "Where are her parents?"

Steven meanwhile, was positively thrilled that one so young understood that Anubis, while being the god of death, was not evil. And... naturally this sent him into info-dump mode.

"Why, yes! Anubis is good." He held up a finger as the little girl looked at him, awe on her face that he understood what she was saying and was willing to actually talk about it.

"He guided souls once they left their earthly bodies." He explained, grabbing a small replica of an Egyptian temple front. "Once their hearts were weighed, if they were good, he would help guide them to the afterlife. If they were bad..."

"They got ate by the crocko-lion!" The girl finished with a gasp.

Steven suppressed the urge to laugh at how she described Ammit. Jake and Marc meanwhile, held no such compunction and were laughing their asses off.

"I like this kid." Jake said as his laughter died down.

"Yes! They did. But did you know they also had to be judged? Not just with the scales?" Steven grinned at her as she bounced on her heels, the palms of her hands rubbing on her coveralls as she listened.

"Now that subject is very lengthy...." Steven leaned over on the flats of his shoes and plucked a small book about the Egyptian afterlife and mythos and showed it to the little girl. The cover was emblazoned with raised gold print; with images of sarcophagi, and motifs scattered on the front and back.

"But it's always worth a good read." Steven continued. "Now, if you want to know someone else who sometimes assists those who've passed on?"

The little girl plucked the book out of Steven's arms, nodding, her eyes tracking the way his mouth and hair moved. Not once did she make eye contact, instead settling for staring at other features instead.

Steven could understand, sometimes looking into people's eyes was... oof. It was difficult and frankly sometimes it made him uncomfortable, made his palms itch and the hair on the back of his neck tickle.

He stood up, and walked to another shelf, the little girl trailing behind him, the book looking three sizes too large for her tiny body as her little light up sneakers squeaked on the waxed linoleum.

Steven reached down, then, and grabbed a plaster statuette of a familiar feminine shape sporting a hippo head and kneeled back down, showing it to her.

"This is Taweret." He beamed proudly.

"She's the nice hippo lady." The child peeped, staring at the statue with rapt attention.

"Yes! Yes, she is! Very nice." Steven chuckled. "But she's also the goddess of motherhood and children, did you know? She protects women when they have their babies, and helps them."

The little girl nodded, "Yeah, I read a thingy 'bout her! She's--"

"Victoria! Oh my god." A breathless voice called from the front of the shop.

The moment Steven lifted his gaze, he could feel his heart catch on his throat when he saw you. Even Marc and Jake went quiet as you approached.

You were wearing some faded-out jeans and a t-shirt with a faded band logo that hugged your figure very nicely. You had a backpack slung over your shoulders and the keychains dangling from it tinkled and clacked as you moved, rushing to scoop up your child.

Steven could easily see that Victoria got her looks from you, those gorgeous inquisitive eyes, her nose, hair texture...

Jake had to give him the mental equivalent of a slap to stop his gawking as he stood up awkwardly, wiping the hand not holding the statue on his jeans as he gave you what he hoped was a charming smile, but judging by your wariness, you obviously weren't thrilled at the sight of your daughter talking to a strange man.

Steven was about to speak up, but Victoria did so instead for him, not reading the tenseness in the situation.

"Steven's my friend!" She beamed, holding the book in her pudgy little fingers, showing you. "He knows about 'Gyptian stuff, too!"

Steven blinked, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks as you looked at him, raised eyebrows. It took him a moment of awkward glancing away to realize Victoria knew his name because she read his name tag. He hadn't once said it to her. Hell, he only knew her name because you said it when you ran in!

"Ah... Yes. I work here, in the gift shop. Egyptology is a major... um." He struggled to find a word.

"Hyperfixation?" You sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders as you smile tiredly.

"Oh! Yes. I s'pose!" He said, blinking his big doe eyes at you.

"Yeah, Victoria is... well." You chuckle, propping the young child on your hip with practiced ease. "She's obsessed with the stuff! I swear, the stuff she can shove into her noggin with how much she knows of ancient Egypt, it feels like she was born in the wrong era, I'm telling you!"

Victoria smiled happily and snuggled into you, rubbing her cheek on the soft fabric of your shirt with a content hum, almost like a happy little cat.

You didn't pay any mind to her as she rubbed her face on you, instead conversing with the man in front of you.

"Ah... A little scholar to be, eh?" Steven laughed awkwardly.

"Hah, more like she already is one. With everything she knows, I swear she outpaces me in the IQ department." You sigh fondly, brushing a stray curl from your daughter's face.

Steven's eyes anxiously tracked your movements, how your fingers curled, the way your eyelashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, the way your foot tapped on the floor...

"I'm surprised she talked to you. She's normally very introverted." You hum softly, raising those drop dead gorgeous eyes to lock with his before he awkwardly dropped his eyes to your lips whilst you spoke.

"But then again, if you started talking about this stuff with her, it's no surprise. I'm the only person she talks to about it because nobody else understands."

You noticed his Steven was looking anywhere but your eyes, and how he nervously licked at his lips, his fingers wrapped around the statuette in his hands tapping idly.

"Oh! She's a lovely little conversationalist. Rather well-knowledged as well!" Steven replied, looking at Victoria again, who grinned as she once again rubbed her face on your shirt.

"Honestly, she's more learned than half the adults who try to talk to me about Egypt." He huffed out a chuckle.

His eyes dropped to the picture of Anubis that initially offended the child. "We got into a little debate about how inaccurate those pieces of Anubis are."

"Oh, don't get her started on those inaccurate artworks... She despises them!" You laugh softly.

"Oh, I fully understand why! It's so offensive!" Steven gasped. "Especially to a culture! Anubis is not an evil god by any means!"

"Oh yeah, believe me... we watched a movie the other day and she had a meltdown because they made Anubis the bad guy. She was so distraught it took thirty minutes to calm her down." You smile with infinite patience at your little girl.

"Oh, poor little dear! But I can totally understand that." Steven smiled, finally locking eyes with you as he reached some level of professional comfort with you.

"Mommy, can I get em?" Victoria peeped, interrupting you before you could get another word out.

"Hm?" You hummed at her, raising an eyebrow.

"The book and hippo lady!" She replied, holding up the book.

"Hippo Lady?"

"Yeah!" She said, sounding a little exasperated, pointing to the statue Steven clutched in his hands. "Her! Tawar!"

"Taweret." Steven chuckled softly at her mispronunciation.

"Tawww--" Victoria frowned as she tried to get the word out. "Tawweret."

"Close 'nough. I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Steven smiled warmly, holding up the statuette.

"All right, all right." You laughed, following Steven to the counter so you could check out, having another nice chat about what he and Victoria discussed. He even tossed in a little keychain that held a preserved scarab beetle in epoxy, much to Victoria's delight!

What you didn't know as you left the shop, was how positively smitten he was with you already.

That was your first meeting with Steven Grant.

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A few weeks crawled by, and every other day you were at the museum, letting Victoria lead you by the hand as she animatedly discussed what every object or picture meant, and you struggled to keep up, making mental (and a few digital) notes on what she was talking about. Of course, she insisted that after every tour, you stopped to say hi to her new "bestest friend" Steven.

You were thrilled that you found someone who operated on the same wavelength as your daughter, knowing that it was hard for her to make connections with other children, let alone adults. But Steven and Victoria took to each other like ducks to water.

And hey, he seemed harmless enough. Cute, too, beneath that mop of curls. You even started researching more just to be able to tag into the conversations between your daughter and her unlikely friend.

Today, you were at the local grocer and Victoria decided that she wanted to walk with you instead of riding in the trolley on her tablet like she normally did. You were happy, but ensured she kept her noise cancelling headphones over her tiny ears to make sure she stayed comfortable.

You had picked up a pack of steaks to examine the cuts when Victoria slipped your hand free of hers and darted off, squealing, "Steven!"

You almost dropped the steaks when Victoria darted down the aisle and wrapped her arms around the legs of the man she ran towards.

One minute Marc was looking at a box of matzahs, the next, he had a child clinging to his legs.

His whole body froze as he looked down, immediately going rigid as the little girl looked up at him, babbling something he didn't quite understand because of how quickly she was speaking.

He did make out the name "Steven".

"Uh--" He said awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry!" You say, hastily bringing the trolley up to the two. "She just got excited to see you, and..."

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. He looked like Steven Grant, but he didn't feel like Steven Grant. His normally messy curls were combed back neatly, his flannel hanging open with the sleeves rolled up and T-shirt untucked from his pants. His big brown eyes were wide, looking at you with a face that simply pleaded "Help me".

"Uh..."

"I'm... Marc." He said in an unmistakably American accent.

"Oh. Oh!" You lean down and scoop up Victoria, hastily plopping her in the trolley, willing yourself to ignore her little wobbling lip as you messily search up her favorite video to watch on her tablet to prevent the simmering meltdown you could see just beneath her surface.

"I'm... I'm sorry. You just look like someone we know from the museum, and..." You sigh, rubbing your hands together as you cringed.

"Steven, yeah..." Marc said, giving a stiff smile in return as he dropped the box of what looked like crackers into his basket looped over his elbow.

"You..."

'Play it cool, Marc...' Jake's voice softly warned.

"We're, uh, brothers. Triplets. All identical." He spat out with haste.

"Oh! Well... That's... That explains the looks, huh." You smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension. His explanation didn't sit well with you for some reason, as to why he suddenly blurted it all out. But you chocked it up to him trying to explain to avoid upsetting Victoria.

"But, yeah. Um... Your brother, Steven? He and Victoria are like, best friends now. She looks forward to seeing him whenever we're at the museum." You chuckle softly.

Marc's eyes soften as he smiles, giving Victoria a gentle look. "Yeah, uh, Steven's told me about her. She's a smart kid, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. A real genius." You smile at her as she starts tapping away at her tablet, selecting one of her drawing apps and beginning to scribble.

"Sometimes I can't keep up with her."

"Hey, that's good. She'll go places." Marc replied.

Your smile falters a bit. "Yeah, if people will give her a chance..." You mutter.

Marc was about to ask what she meant, but he kept his mouth shut, watching as Victoria was engrossed with her tablet, her little feet wiggling and tapping on the sides of the trolley as she moved her mouth silently, mouthing words to herself.

"She's... Eh." You rub the back of your neck. "She normally doesn't come to the store with me. She says she can hear the lights buzzing and it upsets her, which is why she has to wear her headphones. I mean I can't hear the lights or anything, but all I need to know is that she can..."

"Yeah, Steven is the same way sometimes. It makes him twitch so he has to wear headphones when we go shopping..." Marc said, frowning.

"Yeah. That's something I'm kind of amazed about. Victoria doesn't really have any friends outside of well, me... and your brother? Steven and her are just... man, they're like two peas in a pod!"

Marc stays quiet as you smile fondly at your child, and he notes the relief in your expression as you recount that your child was able to finally connect with someone. It warmed his heart to know that Steven was able to socialize with someone who shared the same mannerisms, even if she was just a kid.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you put your hands on your hips, and noted the lack of wedding ring and a ring tan line.

'Focus, cabrón.' Jake snickered.

"She's autistic. It was a pain to get her diagnosed, but we managed. I could tell she was different. Namely how she would act with fabrics." You sigh.

Now that grabbed both Marc and Jake's attention. If Steven were aware and co-fronting, he was sure he would be rapt as well. Steven explained the fabric thing to hime a few times, but being in the same body it was still hard at times to understand that Marc or Jake could feel one thing but Steven could feel another.

"Uh... Fabrics? You'll have to forgive me, but..."

"Oh! It's a sensory thing." You explain, rolling your hand. "With her, it's fleece, or satin-like textures. They irritate her and make her fussy. As a baby I never understood why she flipped out when I would put her little socks on her until the doctor explained it when she was older. But for some people it's cotton, or microfiber... The way Victoria describes it is that it's, uh..."

"Scratchy." Marc murmurs.

"Exactly!" You snap your fingers.

"Yeah, Steven is the same way. Though he's not like that with satin, he usually prefers cotton--the super soft kind? Or silk." Marc nods, shoving one hand in his pocket.

"Yeah... It's thankfully easy to shop for her, she prefers cotton and soft microfiber. It's why she rubs her cheek on my shirts or pants. Some people mistake it for being affectionate--and don't get me wrong sometimes it is--but usually it's a grounding thing." You sigh softly. "It helps her calm down."

"Ah... Sounds hard. What about her dad? He know how to handle it?" Marc asked curiously.

He immediately felt bad when he saw how your expression fell, and you glared at the ground.

"He skipped out on us while I was pregnant. I caught him in our bed with someone I thought was my best friend the day I found out she was a girl." You spit, angry and full of venom.

Marc cringed. "God, your best friend? In your bed? That's a whole extra level of degeneracy..."

"I know! Ugh! I swear, if he wasn't stronger than me I would have stabbed him that day!" You groan.

Marc rocks his head back in shock at the admission. "You were gonna stab him?"

"When you're five months pregnant, hormonal, tired, and sore and walk in on your fiancee doing the deed in your own bed? Yeah, emotions get high." You run a hand through your hair, smirking as you looked back at him.

"Grabbed the knife right outta the block and lunged at him. Chased em both half naked out of my flat."

'Shit, I'd be in love. That sounds sexy as hell.' Marc could just imagine the grin that would be spread across Jake's face at that.

Marc laughed, unable to contain himself, both at the retelling of your story and Jake's remark.

'You got problems, Jake.' Marc shot back mentally.

'Pot, meet kettle...'

'Touché...'

"So it's safe to say, he's out of the picture, huh?" Marc says, his laughter dying down into a soft chuckle.

"Oh yeah. Had his parental rights severed, and kicked his sorry.... well. I tossed him out and told him that my "best friend" could deal with him and his lazy antics, considering I pay for the flat."

"Yikes. Sounds like a real dirt bag."

"Oh yeah, he was. I have no idea what I saw in him, to be honest... And knowing that Victoria isn't "normal" like other kids, I feel like he would treat her badly, or... hurt her." You say, shaking your head.

"Hey, if he shows up and does that just call me." Marc grunted. "I hate it when people do that crap to kids. I'll knock his teeth down his throat."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the weight of them almost made them feel oppressive as glimpses of his abusive childhood shone through. The memories of his mother swinging her arm down, the crack of the leather belt, the red, bloody welts in his skin...

'Ay, hermano. Come back, don't think about that.' Jake's voice said gently, urging that door in his mind shut. 'That's not your life, anymore.'

Marc blinked and looked back up at you, his eyes locking with yours. And the concern on your face... he felt so undeserving of it. He wasn't sure why, but...

"Ah... I mean... Let's just say I have experience with that sort of thing. So I'm..." He struggled.

"No, no, I get it. My dad was a piece of shhh..." You cringed as the word almost slipped from you, casting a short glance to Victoria, making sure she couldn't hear you. "Er. He was bad. So yeah, I totally get you."

"Oh... Sorry, people get weirded out when I..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Disassociate." You finish for him. "I used to do the same thing when it came to my dad. It gets easier once you're free of it, I promise."

The soft, sweet smile you give him was strong enough to make his heart jump into his throat.

'Wow...'

'Ask. Her. Out. Steven won't do it, so you do it!' Jake urged him.

Marc choked suddenly, coughing awkwardly to clear his throat at Jake's further commentary.

"You okay?" You ask him.

"Y-Yeah, I just... Uh..." He cringed again. "It's... allergies! I've been dealing with them since we dusted the flat, and... Yep. Allergies."

You chuckle softly at him as Victoria tugs on your sleeve and whispers in your ear.

"Oop, mama duty calls. It was nice meeting you, Marc." You grin, giving him a short handshake.

"Yeah... You too." Marc replied as you walked off, giving Victoria a wave as she peeked over your shoulder as you push the trolley away.

'Allergies? Smooth, Marc. Really smooth. How the hell did you ever bag Layla with romantic skills like that?' Jake sighed sarcastically.

'I swear Layla probably only married you for your dick, man. You're so BAD at romance.'

Marc knew Layla did love him, at one point but with all the drama of being Moon Knight, it quickly snuffed that relationship... They were still close of course, but they'd never open up to another intimate relationship again. Which was fine, none of them minded particularly.

Especially not now. Not now that there's a cute single mom with and adorably--scarily--smart little girl on her hip to occupy those thoughts.

And that... was your first time meeting Marc Spector.

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Now, meeting Jake was different. Completely different. You technically "met" Jake weeks after you met Marc and built a rapport with him.

One night, Jake was sitting in the window, munching on some saltines he'd spread with sunflower butter as he read some old knitting patterns in a book he'd picked up at a resale shop.

He thought he could knit something for both you and Victoria and have Steven give it to you, it would be a good way to start actually flirting, to hopefully open up that door for all of you.

But of course... well. He knew Steven was way too shy to ask you out on a date, and Marc was too chicken shit and awkward about the subject to bring it up himself.

And so, it fell upon Jake Lockley to find a way to get closer to you, two. He understood that many single mothers found it tricky to date, especially with a child like Victoria. It would require immense levels of trust to get past those walls you would have put up to protect both you and Victoria, especially after you'd told Marc about Victoria's biological father fucking your best friend the day of your ultrasound.

He could just imagine how your poor face fell when you closed your front door, hearing the ridiculously high-pitched, false moans and the squeaking of the mattress as that miserable excuse of a man was having his way with your supposed "best friend"...

All while your hands would have clutched the pictures of your unborn baby girl, tears bubbling up in your eyes as you screamed at them while they scrambled to cover their shame.

And then.... as you told Marc, you would have grabbed the knife and the rest was history; bidding goodbye to that cheating bastard and woman you once trusted.

You were strong, loving and oh so patient with your daughter and her needs. Jake found your whole being attractive, honestly. He hadn't seen you angry, but he just knew you were a badass if you wanted to be.

He chuckled as he picked up his knitting needles, and began to loop the soft, thick yarn through each line. He was sure to pick yarn that wouldn't upset Victoria and her sensory issues, so he picked the softest yarn he possibly could, selecting enough to make the both of you matching jumpers.

Victoria's would be a little big, to allow for comfort and her to grow into it as she wore it. He could just imagine how adorable she'd look with the sleeves hanging over her little hands, squirming and giggling as you two played together--

Jake's hands stopped knitting.

Shit. He had it down bad for you, too.

When he looked down, that's when he noticed the green laser pointed right at him...

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You were there, simply cleaning up the mess from dinner as Victoria happily colored on her dry erase board, drawing the shapes and hieroglyphs she saw in the book Steven selected for her.

She had been quiet and engrossed in her little art project for so long that you jumped and almost dropped a plate on the floor when she squealed loudly.

"Mommy, it's Steven! Or Mister Marc?"

"Huh? What?" You looked around your flat, for some reason your brain told you to look inside instead our our the window where her little finger tapped the glass excitedly.

"No, there!" She insisted. "Over there!"

You walk over to her and lean down, looking out the window.

And sure enough, across the street, in the building across from yours, an apartment had the curtains open with the lights on.

In one of the windows, at a desk, sat a man. The streets were close enough together that you could make out some details. The shadow of a mustache being the first thing you zeroed in on, and then the immaculately slicked-back hair.

He looked like he was... knitting? This man, who looked like Steven and Marc. Marc and Steven both mentioned on different occasions that they had a brother named Jake, maybe this was him?

And wow! So close by, too!

Victoria waved her arms, trying to get her attention, but the man was so absorbed in his task that he didn't notice her try to get his attention. When her little disappointed sniffles could be heard, you snap your fingers.

"I got an idea!" You say, dashing to the end table by the front door and rummaging through the various keychains you'd accumulated. It was a guilty habit of yours, you found.

But then you pluck up the laser toy and run back to the window. It takes shaking it once or twice for the green light to illuminate, but when it does, you shine it directly through the window and at the man's chest.

Then, he looked up.

You break out into a happy grin when he spots the two of you, and Victoria giggles with unabated glee as she waves some more, her whole tiny body moving with every shake of her overly excited hand.

You see the man smile back and he waves at the both of you.

"Hey, baby, why don't we use your board to say hi?" You suggest, rubbing her shoulders.

"Yeah!" She giggles, grabbing the board and erasing her painstakingly re-created drawings from the book, and messily scrawled the word:

Hi :)

The man laughed and looked around until he grabbed a notebook, scribbled something with a marker, and held it up for you two to see.

Hello

You chuckle as Victoria hands you the board, knowing that your writing is neater than hers is, and with how excited she is, she was bound to mess up.

You quickly and clearly write something down and turn the board to face the window.

Steven or Marc?

He smiled at you and scribbled back.

Jake

Marc n Steven told us about you. Hi!

They've told me a lot about you, too.

"That's Jake, honey. Remember what I said? How Steven and Mister Marc look alike? He's the same way." You explain to Victoria.

"Oh." She sighs. Poor little thing seemed dejected that once again, she misidentified someone as her "bestest friend".

You lift your eyes as Jake showed what he put on the notepad next. It was a badly drawn cat with a happy face on it.

You can't help but laugh and grin, nudging Victoria to look at what he drew for her.

"It's a kitty!" She gasps, snatching the board from your hands to draw pictures for him.

You spent much of the evening that night with Victoria and Jake drawing pictures back and forth, writing messages until he ran out of paper.

That's when you put down your phone number and told him to text, to make it easier on Victoria.

Victoria, upon realizing this, dropped her board and snatched your phone, starting a video call with Jake and chattering his ear off. He seemed to take it in stride, engaging with her. Not on the same level as Steven, but something about how he handled it gave you the impression he had experience with kids, or even worked with kids.

He didn't talk down or dumb anything down for her, he spoke to her calmly and clearly like he would anyone else, and the fact he was so sweet was endearing to you.

He was even teaching her little words in Spanish. For some reason, she liked to repeat the word "cat" because she liked how it sounded, and it was "funny".

That was how you met Jake Lockley.

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It was now half a year since you'd indirectly met all three "brothers" and quickly, the pressure was beginning to mount on them to reveal the truth to you as their crush developed more and more into full infatuation with you and your darling girl.

But they still hadn't asked you out, yet. They'd come close a few times, but it was never when Jake was in control so Marc and Steven backed down at the last possible moment. Every time Jake was in control it wasn't a "good moment" for them to propose a date with you. But now?

It was late in the year, the harvest festival being over with and the holidays around the corner with Christmas, as usual, dominating all others. Snow and ice encased everything. It came early this year, and Victoria couldn't be more thrilled. (She could build snowmen with her friends, Steven, Mister Marc and Mister Jake!)

You and Jake would text, and he gave in and told you that he, Marc, and Steven all actually lived together and he would "let" Steven or Marc use his phone so he could video chat with Victoria and you.

You didn't know the boys all shared the same phone regardless.

It was nice having a social life again, even if it was small. Outside work and ensuring a comfortable upbringing for your little girl, you'd forgotten how nice it was to have friends. Even if those friends consisted of three identical, quirky brothers who lived in the flat across the way.

The day was coming soon, for when they would have to confess to you about the true nature of their identities. And the three unanimously agreed that they would tell you about Moon Knight.

For your safety, and Victoria's. They didn't want you to agree to date them (if you ever would) only to find out they snuck out in the dead of night to do the bidding of some creepy ancient bird god who could frankly do with a wardrobe update...

They just didn't anticipate that day to be today. Of course, Steven would rather have broken the news to you over a nice dinner in the corner booth of a quiet restaurant. Or even on a nice walk through the park...

But no. No, it had to come out when you decided to pull out your phone and go through your texts or the day as Victoria sat in Steven's lap on the couch of your living room.

Jake had sent a meme earlier in the day, of a little cat wearing a sombrero and you chuckled. You sent a meme back in reply, of a snail holding some maracas on some drawn-on arms.

That's when Steven twitched when the phone in his back pocket vibrated and chimed with a silly little ringtone.

You blinked at him as he fished it out of his pocket, careful not to knock Victoria off balance as he checked it. He awkwardly cleared his throat and gave you a strained smile as he set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"You okay..." You say, eyeing the very familiar phone. They could just have the same model and case...

"Oh, yes, just an email alert, luv. Don't worry 'bout it!" Steven chirped, quickly shifting his attention back to Victoria as she practiced her reading from the book in her hands.

You squint at him suspiciously. Your finger hovered over the send button when you selected another silly little image...

But you decided to call instead.

That's when a song began to chime. One you recognized very well as Steven's favorite song...

♫"Lonely is a man,

Without looove~"♫

'God damn it, Steven! You forgot to put it on silent again!' Marc's panicked voice shouted inside their headspace.

'Ay, hermanito, not now!' Jake groaned.

Steven began to sweat profusely as Victoria handed the phone innocently to him, urging him to answer it, not making the correlation with the song, or your phone number...

Steven shakily held the phone to his ear and answered.

"H-Hello..."

"Steven." You deadpan, raising an eyebrow and tapping your finger on your arm.

'Shit shit shit shit.' Marc hissed.

'Busted.' Jake almost sang.

You look at Victoria, hesitant to interrupt her time with Steven, but you wanted answers. Why is it that none of the men ever agreed to all meet up in person to hang out? Why did you only ever see one at a time? Yes, work was a convenient excuse, but every single day?

And then there's the phone!

Yeah, you weren't letting Steven wiggle free from this talk, even as Victoria pouted and trudged back into her room to play with her toys.

You almost feel like a cop in a bad movie, the way you lean back with your arms crossed, almost like you were an interrogator in a police precinct.

Would this make you both the bad and good cop?

You felt so bad, knowing that this kind of behavior would only freak Steven out, so you relaxed your jaw and posture, leaning away from him and giving him breathing room as his sweaty hands began to pat nervously in the memorized tune of that specific song that was just playing.

"I'm not blind, and I'm not dumb... So start from the beginning." You sigh. "I don't want anything to come out and upset Victoria, but I have to know who I'm letting around my little girl."

Steven licked at his slightly chapped lips, taking his bottom lip between his teeth briefly.

"Okay..." He peeped.

'Just take it slow, Steven.' Marc urged him gently.

'I can take control, if you want.' Jake offered.

"No, that's too much right now." Steven muttered aloud, without thinking.

You tipped your head to the side. "What's too much?"

Steven jumped and covered his mouth, his big doe eyes wide as can be, like he's a little boy who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

He despised awkward situations like this. He could never tell what to say to keep someone happy and to avoid them getting angry with him...

"Steven, I'm not mad. I'm honestly confused. Please... Just... Tell me everything, okay? I just wanna know some things." You say, leaning forward to put your hand on his knee, your ever so patient eyes sweet and understanding.

Yeah, those eyes were his undoing.

"Do you know what Dissociative Identity Disorder is?"

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Whatever you had originally expected to hear from Steven, finding out that he, Marc and Jake all shared the same body was a lot to absorb. Especially after Steven blurted out about their superhero alter ego that apparently did bidding for an Egyptian god?

Steven expected you to be mad, braced himself for it, but instead, he and his two headmates were knocked entirely off center when you made the remark that if Khonshu ever got to be too much for the boys, they should lock him in a room with Victoria and her never-ending questions.

That would shut him up for a little while, surely.

Another thing you weren't expecting was the date proposal from Steven (and of course Marc and Jake).

You hesitated, at first... But...

They were so kind and sweet. They already have shown so much care for you and your daughter... And you were honestly happy to realize that you weren't crushing on different guys, that your feelings were no longer awkward and conflicted.

Or wait, were you crushing on different men? Yes they were completely different identities, but they shared a body, and... oh, this was gonna take time to learn more about.

Your first date was for later that week. Steven informed you it would be Jake, taking you out, as he felt like a "bloody awkward fool" and was afraid of messing it up, and Marc was just as bad at those social situations.

But you agreed, and when the date rolled around, you and Victoria were bundled up, all ready to go to the charming little Italian restaurant somewhere in town where apparently Jake was friendly with the employees there.

Victoria skipped in the snow, struggling to match her pace with yours, making sure her footsteps were measured so her prints mirrored yours exactly as she walked on her little tippy toes.

As you approached where Jake had his car parked, he smiled, his mustache quirking up as he scooped Victoria in his large gloved hands, laughing when she dragged her fingers over his hairy upper lip, comparing the stache to a caterpillar.

You stifled a snort and covered your mouth as you watched Jake buckle Victoria into a booster seat in the back of his car.

"Where did you..." You blinked. You fully intended to run back to your flat and grab the booster seat you owned, but you were surprised to see Jake already had one. A rather expensive-looking one, at that.

"Ay, cariño, you didn't think I'd let the little chiquita ride unprotected, did you?" He smirked at you, his dark eyes glinting mischievously.

"But, I have one. You didn't have to..."

"Hey, if it makes it easier, I'll be happy to foot the bill." Jake hummed, leaning in to check Victoria's buckles as she played on her tablet, snow-caked shoes kicking lazily as she did.

Normally, Jake was insane about his car. He always made sure his fares cleaned their damn feet off before getting inside. But for you two he willingly made the exception.

"Now, c'mon mamacita." Jake grinned at you once more as he enabled the child lock and closed the door on Victoria's side. "We got lunch to get to, right?"

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You couldn't remember the last time you were on a date. Actually wait, you could. The night you got pregnant. One of the only times Victoria's sperm donor was ever romantic with you, and he proposed the next morning after.

Yeah, you knew how that story ended.

But now it looked like a whole new book was being written right in front of you, as cliché as it all sounded.

Jake had treated you both well, engaging happily and drawing with Victoria on the activity mat the restaurant provided as you sipped your glass of red wine, watching; your heart was fluttering in your chest as you watched how happy she was interacting with them.

After a while, he went back out to his car and returned with a sparkly red gift bag for the two of you and you immediately felt your heart lurch up from your chest and into your throat.

He knitted the two of you matching jumpers. A mama cat and her kitten, of course, he managed to do it in an Egyptian style, much to Victoria's glee as she ripped off her regular jumper in favor of the one Jake made, immediately rubbing her face on the sleeve with a happy giggle.

You couldn't help but smile warmly as Jake helped her pop her head through the top, and you decided to slip yours on, yourself.

God, it was almost surreal how Hallmark it all seemed. Not one, but three men interested in you, a lonely single mother. All three men who adored your daughter and treated you both with respect. All three men, who shared the same body and nighttime secret.

And you found yourself falling just as hard, and somewhere in the back of your mind wondered if--if--you had met them first... would they have been Victoria's father(s)? Would they have rejoiced in your pregnancy? Gone to your appointments, held your hand in the delivery room? Would they have helped the doctors weigh and print Victoria for the very first time?

Your mind was knocked out of the what-ifs when your phone jingled, catching Jake's attention.

"Oh, it's Victoria's pediatrician. I have to take this." You sigh sadly, not wanting to step away from the cozy atmosphere in your booth.

Jake smiled at you and winked, "Go ahead and take it. I got her handled."

You smiled back, hoping the flush to your face wasn't as obvious as you feared as you got up and answered the call.

Jake continued to play and draw with Victoria, letting her explain how some of her learning games worked, what apps were her favorite, and who her favorite cartoon characters were.

Honestly, if anyone thought Steven was great with Victoria thanks to their same autistic traits? Jake was good simply because he was a natural with kids. Marc was, too, but he was a bit stiff and nervous. He needed to be eased into it just a bit more.

"Hey.... Psst. Mister Jake." Victoria whispered to him, blinking her big, bright, gorgeous eyes up at him.

"Yeah? What is it, gatita?" Jake hummed at her, grinning.

She waved her hand, urging him closer as she whispered conspiratorially, cupping her hand over his ear, "Look where Mommy's standing."

Jake lifts his gaze to find you among the crowd of people, where you stood on your phone, talking to the doctor about Victoria's upcoming appointment. He tracked where Victoria was pointing, and that's when he saw it: the mistletoe.

He knew immediately what Victoria was hinting at.

"That means you gotta kiss my Mommy." She whispered to him again.

"Oh, I do, huh?" Jake teased, poking her in the side. "And what if I don't?"

"Then Imma make you!" She squeaked and giggled.

"Oh, dear, then in that case I definitely have to do it, eh?" He chuckled.

"C'mon." Jake said, scooping Victoria up and holding her on his hip. "Let's go give another present to your wonderful mamá."

As they got closer to you, he caught the tail-end of your conversation.

"...yeah. Next Wednesday at 3pm. See you, then, Doctor Wilson. ...Of course! Happy holidays." You say cheerily, ending the call.

When you turned around, you saw Jake holding Victoria against him as he walked closer to you.

The sight really shouldn't have taken your breath away the way that it did...

But if you thought your breath was taken before? It was entirely robbed from you as Jake leaned in, wrapping an arm around your waist as he tipped his head down to kiss you, his mustache tickling your nose and upper lip.

You were so taken aback that you didn't hear the whooping and laughing from the workers of the restaurant as the scene unfolded in front of them, congratulating Jake.

Victoria squirmed and squealed and laughed and laughed, rubbing her face on Jake's leather jacket as your lips finally parted and your jaw dropped.

"What's the matter, mamacita? Cat got your tongue?"

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God, dating those men was the best decision you ever made. Even with them being Moon Knight.

They were kind enough to always say goodnight to Victoria before they went about their business, giving you a soft kiss before whichever one was in control of the body departed.

You had only been dating a short while, it was now entering February and you were all spending more and more time together. Marc, Jake, and Steven had all spent the night once or twice in their own time.

Nothing sexual happened, but it was so nice to fall asleep with someone wrapping their arms around you. It was even better to wake up and see Victoria snuggled onto his chest, his arms caged around her protectively, flexing when she made any movements as his unconscious body ensured she wouldn't roll off of him and--god forbid--onto the floor.

It was a few days before Valentine's, and Marc had spent the day with you and Victoria. He had gotten much more comfortable around her, falling into a natural and gentle routine unique to them. Just like she had with Steven, and Jake. And above all, they handled her autism well.

Steven was exceptionally good at helping distract her during her meltdowns, whereas Jake could cradle her, singing little songs in Spanish as he rubbed her back. Marc would start by talking to her in a low, gentle tone, urging her to just breathe, and talk, explaining what was upsetting her and what would work best to help her calm down from it.

But right now, Victoria was in the midst of a battle against sleep.

"Don' wanna sleep." Victoria sniffled into Marc's jumper.

"I know, babydoll, but you'll feel loads better once you do, mkay?" He murmured quietly to her as he padded, barefoot into Victoria's almost obnoxiously canary-yellow bedroom.

"I can make some apple pancakes for you in the morning, hm? How's that sound?"

He dodged the minefield of toys scattered about and chuckled softly at the shelf where her little ancient Egypt memorabilia sat meticulously organized alongside her books and drawings on the subject. A half-finished paper sarcophagus lay on the desk in the corner, a project Steven had started with her two days ago that they intended to finish together.

Marc laid her down and she nodded, rubbing her eye. "Okay..." She mumbled in agreement.

Marc picked up the plushy scarab that Steven bought from the gift shop and handed it to her, tucking her in all nice and warm.

"There you go." He said softly to her, kneeling next to the bed. "Snug as a bug in... well. Blankets, right now, huh?"

He grinned when Victoria giggled groggily at his pun, squeezing the beetle plush she named "Digger" and snuggled under the blankets, her feather lashes brushed her cheeks as she began to drift off.

"See you in the morning, babydoll." Marc said softly, giving her a kiss to her forehead before standing.

His finger had just flipped the switch to turn off the lights in her room, so only the salt lamp dimly illuminated her bedside, when he heard her peep as she rolled over.

"G'night daddy."

He felt like his heart stopped beating as he shakily closed the door, dragging his suddenly very heavy feet through your flat as he made his way to your couch, the weight of that word landing on his shoulders.

He felt like Atlas, carrying the world on his back as he dropped down onto the chocolate brown cushions.

You walk over, having finished dishes from dinner, wiping your hands on a tea towel. Upon seeing his shell-shocked expression, you sit next to him in concern as he covered his face with his hands, his arms shaking and skin pale.

"Marc, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I..." He said, his voice breaking.

You lean in, reaching out to brush a hand through his mop of curls, letting him take his time. Maybe Steven or Jake was trying to front? You've seen how taxing it could be on them when it happened so suddenly. One time Steven had seized control in the kitchen from Jake and he fell and cracked his head open on the counter! Poor Victoria cried when she saw how much he was bleeding, scared that he was dying.

It took a lot of hugs and kisses to convince her otherwise...

"She... God. Fuck." Marc swore softly, sniffing. "She--she called me daddy."

Your jaw dropped and you gawked at him. Was Victoria already so attached to him? To them? But then again, she's never had a father figure, before, either, and suddenly having not one, but technically three men in her life doing all the things a dad should do? You can understand why she would--hell, why you would...

He dropped his arms and you could see the beginnings of tears clump in his beautiful eyelashes, heavy weights of emotion settling deep in his chest.

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away. God, he didn't deserve all of this. He didn't deserve this... this domesticity. Guys like him just didn't get to have a life like that. Not with everything he's had to do as a soldier, a mercenary... in Khonshu's name.

He didn't deserve such a beautiful woman, or the idolized gaze of her sweet and innocent baby girl.

'You're too hard on yourself, Marc.' Steven said to him in their headspace.

'Yeah, hermano...' Jake murmured.

"Marc, honey..." You say, leaning in and adjusting your position, so your head lay on his chest. You spread your hand over his heart, feeling how it hammered in the muscle of his chest.

"I just... What the hell did I do to get this?" He asked softly, bringing his arms around you to bury his nose in your hair.

"Well, I think it all started the day a certain little girl wiggled free of me and ran into a gift shop..."

Marc chuckled, squeezing you tight.

"Would you want us to?" He whispered. "Would you want us to stay? Would you be okay with that? I know it's soon, and--and I'm not saying we move in or anything like that, but..."

"I think it would crush Victoria if I ever shoo'd you boys away, honey." You assured him, tipping your head up to give him a sweet kiss.

You feel the tension slowly bleed from his body and his expression softens into a heartbreakingly sweet smile, his dark eyes sparkling with a warmth that you haven't seen before as your lips parted.

"Then we'll stay. As long as you both will put up with us." He said to you, his voice so quiet you almost couldn't catch his words.

"How do Steven and Jake feel about her calling you daddy?" You smile slyly.

Marc grins and drops his head back with a laugh, listening to the bickering of his headmates as his anxiety ebbed away.

"Oh... They're arguing over who Vicky is gonna call daddy next."

"We need to think of nicknames for you guys so she doesn't confuse you." You laughed with him.

Your laughter was cut short when you heard Victoria's door click open, and out she waddled, blanket clutched in one arm, Digger firmly squeezed into the crook of her elbow and her thumb was in her mouth. She only sucked her thumb when she was frightened, or severely anxious.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Marc asked, shooting to his feet even before you could, at her side in a split second.

You joined him and put your hands on her shoulders, looking into her drowsy and not-entirely-awake eyes. "Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head, mumbling something around her thumb.

"What is it, kiddo?" Marc inquired next.

She pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a pop.

"There's a bird-man in my room."

#moon knight #moon boys #moon boys x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector x reader #marc spector #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley

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silvernight-m · 3 months

Text

Chapter 1 :

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

● Steven Grant x GamerGirl!Reader ● Rating : E

➤ MasterList :

✦ Character AI Bot Based On This Chapter ✦

✦ Marc's Chapter : Coming Soon...

✦ Jake's Chapter : Coming Soon...

─┉┈˚*･༓ ☾ ༓･*˚┈┉─

✦ Summary : You've got your hands on a new video game and been hyperfixating over it. Moonboys aren't taking it well at how they've been neglected.

✦ Tags : Established relationship and reader has moved in with them, Steven's POV, Sad puppy Steven, Marc mentioned and appears only at first (red sentences), Gaming, itty-bitty angst where Steven is a tiny bit smad and feels ignored, He calls reader love/dove/darling, Fluff, Smut

✦ Smut Warnings : SoftDom Steven, Oral Sex f!reader receiving, fingering f!reader receiving, p in v, overstimulation

✦ Word Count : 4,099

➻ Note : This was purely inspired by @melodygatesauthor headcanon on moon boys with a gamer partner.

➻ Note : Comments and Reblogs are appreciated ♡

─┉┈˚*･༓ ☾ ༓･*˚┈┉─

Is she still playing?

Marc's voice brought him back from the trance he was in while watching the flurry of colorful lights coming from the living area in the darkness of the flat.

Steven sighed as he glanced back at the mirror beside bed, seeing Marc trying to peek through at you.

He hummed when he closed his book and turned his attention to Marc. He looked as tired as himself. Unruly curls, dark circles under his eyes and all from waiting for you.

But it's been three hours!

Steven let out another soft frustrated sigh, but this one was meant for Marc. At how he thought he couldn't count the hours that you haven't been in bed. Or the nights that you skipped sleeping till the late hours of dawn.

You still managed to spend time with them, though. With your work and life, you still managed to talk to them, be there for them, love them, and eat with them.

But Steven was getting worried. Marc was sensing it too that this videogame obsession was a bit, odd.

You have been compromising precious sleep time with them ever since you got this new game.

It's been 7 days–

8 days. It's been 8 days.

Steven bristled and side glared at Marc in the mirror. He knew it was past midnight now, so it technically made it 8 days that you were glued to your gaming controller and the tv screen after dinner with them.

He knew it better because he was the one missing you the most!

He thought maybe the first days would be like this. You, playing and enjoying your alone time with the characters you adored. It made his lips pull up into a smile at how you loved this video game. How your voice got high pitched with excitement as you explained some of the plot to him over dinners, without spoiling the game much, of course, in case he wanted to try and play it.

A chuckle even was on its way in his chest as he remembered the way you pouted at some inconvenient things the game developers had done that you thought you'd have done better for your favorite game and its story.

But he was missing you. Missing the time you usually spent in bed. Before sleep.

Sure, you still talked to him. Loved him and cuddled him on the couch or throughout the day after your jobs.

But here he was, his lips puckered out to the cold place beside him on his bed. The place where should have been warm with you and your body, snuggled close to him.

A small wince went through his body as he heard your loud grunt from losing again, probably.

She failed the quest again?

Steven draped his body across the bed, trying to watch your slumped shoulders as his cheek got hit by the cool blanket with his tilted glasses on his face. He nodded to Marc, his curls messing up more as his cheek rubbed against the sheets, his glasses’ hinge pressing into his temple.

But seeing your determined rise of body on the couch as you leaned back, the death grip you had on the controller…

He knew you wouldn't be coming to bed any time sooner.

With a deep breath, Steven decided to get up from the wrongly cool sheets, instinctively dodging the sand line, whereas the floor was long clean from it. Was clean ever since you moved in with him. With them.

He padded closer to you, passing the fish tank with a smile, trying to keep himself hopeful. You would surely return to bed in a short bit. He was sure of it.

But a small frown came over his brows as you didn't even acknowledge him being awake and standing only inches away from the couch and the tv you were glaring at.

“Love?” He didn't like the way you winced at his soft tone when your head whipped towards him.

“What– oh, Steven… I'm sorry! Did I wake you?” Steven glanced at the tv with a push up of his glasses, to the paused menu and returned his gaze back to you with a smile to answer you. “No. Not really.” He held up his book that he was reading earlier, indicating that he wasn't sulking at why you weren’t in bed with him. Because he wouldn't admit that he couldn't sleep without you and from how touch starved he was from having you around but not having you in his arms.

You gave him and his book a tight-lipped smile and turned to the screen again, un-pausing your game. Without noticing that he wanted you in bed and what his pointed look meant.

"S'alright love, I'll be sittin' here, makin' m'self comfortable while readin'." Steven's gaze never left you as he made his way and sat on his reading chair, a little upset that you didn't realize he was awake just because you were awake. Just because he wanted to have more time with you. Did you intentionally ignore what he meant, or were you just so into the game you didn't pick up his intention?

“Okay.” You mumbled absently.

A week. A whole week has been like this.

He was missing you. You were there, sure. Living and breathing near him. In front of the tv, your beautiful face illuminated by lights that danced out of the screen. But you weren't there while gaming!

You just became an entirely different person the moment your hands touched the controller. You were less responsive. Less aware. Less there!

He tried to explain it to Marc. Marc said it was the game you loved so much. The franchise you grew up with. Jake, on the other hand, was even more into letting you follow your slightly unhealthy passion.

But this much obsession was a bit concerning. He couldn't help the going off alarms in his brain. In his heart.

You seemed out of this world while gaming. Like you were in there with the characters.

It wasn't this bad at first. You would come to bed early. Make some comments about the game here and there snuggled up to his chest.

But as the week went on, and the story went on, so did your fixation on that game went on!

It was just your favorite game. Not like you would actually forget him, them, for a videogame, right?

But it was getting frustrating.

The soundtrack coming from the game... the one that indicated you were in danger or enemies were attacking... It was making him nervous!

He could swear that he heard it often times throughout this week that he felt it playing in his brain when he went on missions as Mr. Knight.

And the fact that you weren't touching him! Calming him! Your attention, not on him! Your loving gaze not meeting his eyes while playing!

"Love?" He sighed, his eyes glancing at the clock, which showed 2 AM now. Two in the morning, and you didn't even give him a side glance ever since he sat on the nearby chair.

He was missing the color of your eyes, the twinkle in them when they landed on his own eyes.

A horn went off in the game, and he lost it by yelling out your name. Steven slammed his glasses on the table in frustration at how oblivious you were to his existence while gaming even though you clearly flinched to your name being called. He wasn't even sure if it was because of the war horn, or his firm tone though.

"Steven, why don't you go to bed?!" You asked him, still engrossed in the game that was oh so much more important than him. It saddened him that you said his name only to just dismiss him. To shoo him away and continue playing.

Steven tried to contain himself. It was a game you loved so much, and he wasn't against you having your own hobbies.

But you giggled! You actually giggled at a scene playing on the tv, and it broke his heart. You hadn't giggled or laughed with him while he was sitting there all this time while he even playfully quipped about your gaming.

You didn't give him the shy giggling you usually gave him when he said, “Slaying monsters, love? You are indeed my nocturnal gaming queen.”

He took a deep breath to calm himself, but then he slammed the book shut with frustration. "Fine. It's not like I need affection or attention or love, or anything." He grumbled loudly while getting up. He was so angry with how you've been treating him tonight. Over what? Over a video game!

Not holding him. Not talking to him properly. Not giggling to him. He barely got to even look at your beautiful face while he was fronting tonight.

You were on better terms with Marc and Jake at nights. Probably fearing to upset them with not going to bed with them. But who cared if little Steven got upset, no?

No one cared while his heart broke little by little at how you didn't even hold him and cuddled him under the covers.

He fought the growing tightness in his chest that started to choke him near teary-eyed-ness as he stomped back to the bed. Not just from sadness, though. From frustration. From anger, maybe, too.

"Steven?" You sighed out his name, but he didn't even turn around. He was so mad that he couldn't bring himself to feel giddy once he heard the console beep into being turned off as he wrestled with the duvet and lay his head on the pillows.

Steven didn't let himself even feel happy once you walked closer to the bed. He was feeling guilty. Feeling bad at ruining your game because he was feeling neglected and insecure. Feeling guilty that even your breathing sounded sad as you stood by the bedside, him, being the cause of it.

His back was turned to you, and his eyes were glued to the window. But he could swear he felt you were fiddling with your fingers. He was so angry that he didn't want to look your way and give himself away at how guilty he also felt. But he kept himself in check, not turning to look at you just the way you weren’t looking at him the whole night. "Go back to your game. Don't bother," he barked, squeezing his eyes shut.

Steven tensed up when you got on the bed behind him. His muscles flinched when your arm came around him, and your face pressed into his spine, but eventually he relaxed after a while.

He tried so hard to ignore you.

But he failed. He missed you so much that having this little physical nearness ever since the last 5-ish hours made him turn into mush.

"Don't you have a game to finish?" He tried to sound annoyed. He really did try to get back that sharpness into his tone, but he just sounded like a hurt little kid.

He missed you when you paid attention to him. He missed having you all to him. He missed having you this close.

Gods, he even missed you breathing this much close to him!

Did all the anger and frustration go away when your arm tightened around him, your face gently rubbing into his back as you shook your head no with a soft sniffle?!

Yes, it all went away and made Steven's heart sink as he felt your body trembling against him. He knew, deep within him, that your obsession with the videogame probably had some deeper meaning than just it being your favorite game throughout your childhood. He had to talk to you about it, but he didn't know how to bring it up, and he never thought one day you wouldn't open up to him the way you usually did. And it hurt him even more. "Love, let me hold you..." He whispered quietly, his own throat closing with how he missed having you in his arms in bed.

He played off the sigh of relief with a soft grunt as he turned to face you when you pulled away enough to let him wrap his arms around you.

Steven's eyes were also wet from the tears he was holding back as he watched tears escape yours. "Look, dove, I know somethin's goin' on with you, and that's why you're playin' that game so much." He pulled you into a warm squeeze, "Can we please talk?"

He frowned at how you shook your head 'No' and buried your face in his chest just to hide away your teary cheeks. He let you have a moment in silence before speaking gently again, his hands soothingly rubbing your back. "No, we are goin' to talk about this. I promise, it's goin' to be fine, yeah?" His hand sneaked closer to his chest and held your chin to make you look up at his eyes that were wide with affection. "Let's start slow, yeah, dove?" He wiped the tears off your cheeks and cupped your beautiful face so tenderly. The corner of his lips lifted up on the way your walls melted down just from a sweet hold.

"I'm not good with words." You mumbled with a sniffle that could make him chuckle at how adorable you looked with those puffy lips and tired eyes if you weren’t crying.

"Now, now. Don't play Mahc Spectah for me." Steven chuckled as he wiped your last remnants of tears away when you chuckled at his playful accent, "We have enough brooding in this household." He gently tapped the tip of your nose with his forefinger. "But there will never be a day when we can't talk out our feelings. You and me." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, relishing in the smell of your hair. "I know you have somethin' you're struggling with now, but I can't help you if you don't let me in, love." He mumbled to your skin. "You don't need to find the right words with me. I'm here, and I only want you to let me in."

"Steven..." Your sob shattered his heart as he tried to soothe you, to calm you as he rubbed your back. It was breaking him at the guilt in your eyes. And that was enough for him to forgive you.

"Shhh. I'm right here, okay? Everything's going to be fine." He pulled you so close until your faces were very close and almost touching. "Don't talk. It's fine." He whispered, sharing your warm breath as his nose nuzzled into yours.

He had missed this closeness. He was okay to have you like this even if you took longer to open up. He just wanted you to be near him. To let him in, even if it was physical.

But then he did something that he knew would distract you from whatever that was hurting you or making you sad like this. "I wanna kiss you, love." Steven whispered onto your lips, his voice raspy and playful.

"Even after I was hyperfixating on gaming? Neglecting you?" The strain in your each word squeezed his heart, but Steven couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips as his chocolate brown eyes twinkled at you so lovingly with that slight tilt of his head. He couldn't hold his kisses anymore. The first peck started on your lips. He kissed your neck, your cheeks, your forehead, your lips again, your nose, and then your neck again before pulling you in for a deep, passionate kiss even while you were giggling to his kissy assault. "I'll always love you, my dove. Nothing can make me want to kiss and love you any less. So please come back to me instead of goin' into this game every night. I miss you, darlin’.”

“Steven!” You scoffed a chuckle. “It's not like I never made time for you. I just come to bed a lil late.”

“It's 2:30 in the mornin’, love. How is that a bit late?” He held your chin in his thumb and forefinger, gently but firmly trying to reason with you. “You have work in the mornin’. And honestly, I wonder how you've functioned throughout this week between staying up till 4 AM and everything else..”

Steven sighed with you as you pouted sweetly and accepted your defeat. “Fine. I am sorry that I'm staying up late and playing obsessively. But–”

“No buts, love.” He stopped you with a gentle press of his fingers to your mouth.

“But I have no time to play other than nights!” You mumbled into his fingers which tickled him and made him chuckle at how you were trying to negotiate with your pouty lips rubbing onto his hand.

“al’ight. We can work through that. What about we play in the evening?” The cute pinch of your brows in confusion made his heart flutter. “We?” You asked as you scooted closer on the bed to him which meant victory for him as your face lit up and his body tingled from the way your body got pressed to his, your legs now tangled with each other.

“Yes. We.” He confirmed with a nod, your soft cheek under his palm as he caressed it. “I believe it's time I finally see what's so interesting about this game that's keepin’ my girlfriend away from cuddlin’ me before sleep.”

Your little excited squeal made him laugh as you shouted. “Really?! You will play with me?! You're going to absolutely love it! I– YOU WILL LOVE IT! I know you will!” You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him hard and suddenly, stealing his breath.

Within seconds his heart was pounding loudly against his ribcage into your chest. The molten warmth of love spreading from his heart to his whole body through his veins as his hand found the small of your back and pulled you closer to him. He let out a shaky, whimper like breath through parted lips and into your mouth to how your body slotted against his in all the right places.

“I missed you…” Steven's voice came from the depth of his chest and went right through your core as his fingertips slipped under the waistband of your pajama shorts, caressing and teasing your skin, his other arm securely holding your chest pressed to his.

“I didn't even–” Your words of protest died in your throat at how he desperately squeezed you to himself, licking into your mouth just not to let you say anything more, swallowing your soft moan when you felt the hardness of his cock warmly settling between your thighs.

“I missed you, love...” Steven repeated again as your body shivered at how his fingertips firmly dug into the meat of your asscheek and made your hips grind into him. His mouth kissing the skin of your neck and throat. “So much…” He mumbled, trailing down kisses the length of your neck to your collarbone to gently nibble on. “So, so much…” His lips were hot and wet over the top swells of your breasts, his teeth occasionally nipping at them.

A soft groan left Steven's mouth over your cleavage as he didn't know which breast to free first to kiss and suck on, his hand gripping the neckline of your shirt and your bra in one desperate grip to yank them down. To finally be able to show his love to his favorite parts of your body.

“Steven, wait… Let me–” He knew you wanted to properly take off your pajamas, but he couldn’t wait anymore. He was too desperate to have you again. Missed you too much to even allow himself to pull away slightly even for you to take your clothes off. He didn't even remove his hand from your shorts as it brushed against your hip to travel from your ass to your front.

Your moans made him tremble with need when your head fell back onto the pillows. Your hips ground onto his palm, letting your cunt soak his hand just the way it soaked through your panties, making him whimper into your ear as his own hips was grinding onto your thigh and the back of his own hand inside your shorts.

“Steven!” You moaned his name when his fingers teased and rubbed your clit, sending sparks of pleasure up to your vision as he tested your wetness with his finger. “What's gotten into you?!” You barely had time to mumble between the deep kisses when he pulled away suddenly, his hands so fast to yank down your panties and shorts in one go when you squeaked in surprise.

“I just missed you!” Steven's voice was so deep and raspy that even he himself doubted if it was him talking and not Jake when he pulled off your top clothings as well.

“I just,” His chest heaved, his eyes glued to the dripping arousal between your folds as his tongue dragged along his lower lip like it could already taste you. Which got your core pulse for him and your thighs to press together.

“Oh, no no no, love,” Steven's hands were quick to hold your ankles, to firmly press them down to the mattress and spread you to his gaze. “Don't.” He warned firmly, his lips pressing a kiss to the side of your knee, distracting you enough till his hands deftly locked his ankle restraint to your foot. Your eyes widening when he tightened it.

“Steven, now you're just being silly!” You breathed out, still panting from everything that was happening and was going to happen. “It won't even hold– I know how to open it.”

“I know.” The calm undertone in his voice, the mischief glinting in his eyes and the quirk of his smirk over his kiss-swollen lips made you squirm and pull at the restraint unintentionally. “It's not for keepin’ your legs open for me. You're a good girl, love. You'd do that for me on your own, yeah?” He whispered, tugging at the restraint, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your skin again. “This is just a little reminder…” Steven drawled his words lazily, his cheek rubbing your knee, “For you to remember your place…” his hands traveling up your ankle and calf to your thigh, teasingly, lazily and slowly, stopping so close to where you were aching for his touch. “To where you actually belong. In bed. All spread out for me.”

“Steven…” Your whimper made him chuckle, his eyes boring into your pleading eyes before glancing at your cunt that was begging for his attention.

His cock was twitching needily in his sweatpants but he wouldn't give in this easily. He wouldn't let you forget how much he yearned for your attention tonight and you just kept playing.

And that's what Steven was going to do. He would play with you till you begged for him and screamed his name. Till your sweet whimpers and moans chased the jealousy for some pixels on the tv in his heart away.

Just like the way you spent time playing your videogame, he was going to be spending his time playing with you.

His head dipped between your thighs as his tongue played with your folds and licked them so wet and hot while he moaned to your taste. Steven moaned into your core just to make you moan louder to the vibration and clench around his tongue while he rubbed your clit with his fingers, his arm looped around your thigh.

It took all his willpower not to rut against the mattress where his hips pressed into, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as you came on his tongue, writhing, your trembling thighs squeezing his head deeper into you.

He didn't let you move an inch away from his mouth as he licked and kissed and tongued you over and over again even while your fingers gripped his curls firmly, crying out from release after release.

He was so intoxicated with your scent and taste on his nose and tongue that he had forgotten the ache in his own groin for a while when he let you pull his head finally away from your overstimulated and sensitive pussy.

Steven's eyes were full of love for you as he watched your closed eyes, while you tried to catch your breath. There was satisfaction written over his grinning lips as his head moved with the rhythm of your deep panting, his cheek pressed to your naval, his hands kneading and soothing your slightly trembling thighs.

“What round is it?” He panted into your skin as he trailed such tender kisses up to your breasts like he wasn't eating you out like a starved man a few seconds ago, his tongue shoved deep into your hole.

“Hm, huh?” Steven's chuckle came out as an amused breath at the dazed state of you, kissing and licking any inch of skin he found, smearing your release over you just the way his jaw and lips were coated in.

“What round are we in?” His smooches sounded nearer to you as his lips finally took your earlobe between them. “How many times have you come f’ me, love?”

You whine in response to him, your legs trembling again as his fingers trace a delicate caress over your puffy and sensitive clit. “Four? Five?” He cooed into your ear, earning a deep moan when he dragged the tips of his middle finger and ring finger around your entrance, easily going in and out of your slicked channel.

“Five!” You yelled, your breasts pressing up into his chest, your back arched to guide his fingers to that spot inside you that made you see the stars.

“And how many times did you restart that quest tonight?” Steven's grin widened over seeing your confused expression, your brows knotted in pleasure that was inches away from his fingertips. “Your beloved videogame.” He reminded you with a soft press of the heel of his palm over your clit. “How many times did you restart?”

“Shit! Steven!” You cried in frustration into his jawline, making his body tremble to the way your hot breath hit his ear and your walls clenched around his fingers.

“It was seven, love.” The sting of being ignored and watching you restart a quest for seven times surely was dulled in his heart in the meantime after watching you come undone for him five times. It got duller as you screamed his name again when released crashed over your body for the sixth time and wetted his hand and soaked his sweatpants where his thighs were pressed to your quaking form.

“That was…?” His fingers left you after he rode your high, arms quick to pull his cotton-y soft shirt off of himself. The shuffle and drag of fabric over his skin drew your half lidded gaze up his naked body, his smirk bordering on mischievous and adorable as he mouthed ‘sixth’ to your smiling face. “And that means,” Steven crawled on you again, that shit eating, love struck, grin nearing your face as his body settled over yours, his cock hot and hard pressing to the inside of your thigh and smearing his precum over your skin. “You get to come fo’ me one more time.” He mumbled onto your lips, his hands caressing your sides and arms, your body a complete wreck at his mercy one more time.

Your mouth fell open with a deep moan when his thick cock nudged your clit, both your breaths hitching in your throats as he licked into your mouth to let you whimper to the fading taste of yourself in his mouth. His hands were all over your body, caressing you with his sure and firm hands, his skin burning yours from where he was pressed all over you.

With a gentle nudge of his hips, his cock slid so smoothly into you that got you already writhing under him, your hands clawing his back desperately as he started to move in and out of you.

Steven buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting down on your flesh not to lose himself too quickly when his thrusts started to quicken.

Hips stuttering over yours, his hands gripping yours from his buttocks to slam them above your head with a deep moan when you came again. Your walls tightened around him to a point that he only could muffle his whimper in your neck, your thighs shaking around his as he released ropes of cum into you.

Steven stayed like that for a short while, panting and smelling you.

“Oh, love, are you a'right?” With a sudden move he released your hands, rising on his forearms to make sure you haven't crushed under him, his concerned gaze searching your blessed out face.

You huffed a chuckle, wrapping your freed arms around his neck to softly kiss his swollen lips so tenderly that he couldn't believe he was feeling it.

“I'm fine, Steven.” Your voice was a bit hoarse probably from moaning his name all the time which got him smiling so brightly with a nod.

He left a trail of kisses down your forehead and nose to your chin and neck before pulling away gently, not making more of a mess with your juices, settling in next to you.

“How was that, love? Better than that silly game of yours right?” Steven's tone was playfully proud, making sure that he wasn't actually insulting your favorite game. "I made you forget about it."

“Maybeeee…” You muttered as your eyes fluttered close, the last thing you felt were his arms wrapping around you and the soft chuckle in his chest. “Maybe?! Just maybe?!” He squeezed you to himself, gaining a mock annoyed groan that turned into giggling. “Fine! It was so so much better. And yes. You made me forget it.” You mumbled into his chest, getting a grin and a kiss to your forehead that you didn't catch when you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

─┉┈˚*･༓ ☾ ༓･*˚┈┉─

Hope you enjoyed it!

#Moon Knight #Steven Grant #Marc Spector #Jake Lockley #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant #moon knight #jake lockley #marc spector #moon knight 2022

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boxofbonesfic · 2 months

Text

Title: Blood and Sand (2 of 2)

Pairing: Werewolf!Moon Knight x Reader

Wordcount: 8,594

Summary: You are selected to accompany your mentor on a dig, but what you find in the desert instead makes you wish you had never come at all.

Warnings: Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Murder, Kidnapping, Cults, Implied Torture, AU, Smut, Monsterfucking, Lycanthropy, Cannibalism

A/N: honestly, thank you for reading part one because this is just… porn and violence luckily for me, those are some of my favorite things to write, LMAO. we knew this was going to be self indulgent, so i hope it’s your kind of self-indulgent too. to be clear: this part has all the fuckin’; human, monster and otherwise. 😂❤️ spanish translations provided by the amazing @negronispagliato❤️ bottom divider by @firefly-graphics!

💀

“Oh thank fucking Christ.”

You wake with your head pillowed in Steven’s lap, his eyes dark with concern. You shift, moving to get up—but your skull erupts with pain. Sharp tendrils of it that strike at the nerves behind your watering eyes. Even talking is too much, your jaw aching as you attempt to open your mouth.

“No, Love, don’t.” He holds you still, large palms cradling your face on either side as you whimper. Steven’s eyes harden with anger. “Prick made you read too much.” The hard edge in his voice is unfamiliar—unsettling, even. You aren’t used to seeing anger on Steven’s face. No, that emotion is much more reserved for Marc or Jake—but he’s nearly trembling with it, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” The words are so low you barely hear them—hell, you half wonder if you’ve imagined them. For a moment, a shaft of the setting sun sinking beneath the frame of the narrow window, and his chocolate eyes turn a molten, animal yellow.

“I will eat his fucking heart.”

Steven has the patience of a saint, laying there unmoving until the pain subsides enough for you to crawl out of his lap. Your whole body feels exhausted, wrung out and limp. The water he offers you is tinny, but you’re used to it—every drink of water you’ve had in recent memory tastes like this, it’s almost all you know.

“What happened?” You croak, fingers struggling to hold onto the chipped mug you both share. Steven looks angry—and then ashamed.

“You read,” he says slowly. Reluctantly, he brings his sorrowful gaze to yours.

“And we ate.”

They do not come for him again that night, and you’re grateful for it, burying your face against his chest, clinging to Steven beneath the threadbare blanket—the only one you have. You suppose at least that you are grateful that there are no rats, no spiders or insects. They keep the the corners, skittering away whenever he comes close.

They can sense it, you think, the thing beneath his skin. You can too.

—

Marc kisses you hungrily, his fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of your neck as he tugs your head back. With his other arm he pulls you hard against his chest. You go willingly, easily, arching your back against him. He’s not back yet—not fully, not really.

The other priests can’t read the Word like you can, don’t feel it the way you do—so it takes longer for Marc to come back to himself from the jackal-thing, the moon-drunk thing, and sometimes when they bring him back to you, it’s still worming around inside his head.

Like tonight.

Claws prick at your skin, stroking the line of your throat. Marc’s too-sharp teeth pull at the lobe of your ear before he kisses you again, sloppily.

He tastes like copper.

“Make me forget.” It’s a demand, not a request, but it’s one you’re happy to oblige.

“He’s hard behind you, the fat length of him pressing insistently between the cheeks of your ass. One hand slithers beneath the tattered hem of your tank top, trailing the pads of his fingers across your nipples. The other squeezes the curve of your hip. He doesn’t pull your pants down all the way—full nudity is a privilege you cannot afford anymore. Not with the guards doing random checks now, now that they know.

Pricks.

Mikhail especially seemed to take great pride in discovering you, often standing at the observation window when he had no reason to—the weight of his cold gaze heavy on you every time.

Marc boxes you in with his body—you suspect both because he enjoys the feel of you pressed against him with nowhere else to go, and because from this angle, they can only see his back. Marc kicks your legs open a little wider, humming as he spreads the thick beads of precum leaking from his tip across his head, and you shudder as he slides against you with a lewd squelch. Your breath catches as he traces your pulse with one sharp claw.

“Are you afraid of me?” There are two voices in his throat, twining around one another like vines. One is Marc’s, the one you know, the one that growls your name hungry and low—

And the other one, the one that knows you.

“No.” You aren’t. You should be, should always have been, but for some reason, you never are. There’s so much fear here, running in your veins, oozing out of the fucking walls, you don’t want to feel it with Marc, too. You reach behind yourself to palm his cock with slow, sure passes until he moans into your hair, hips bucking into your hand. You clench around nothing, and Marc chuckles darkly into your hair like he knows it.

“I can smell it, you know?” He breathes, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “How wet you are,” his hand snakes around to your front, sliding down beneath your loose waistband to cup your cunt, fingers slipping eagerly through your folds. He bites down hard enough to bruise, and you whine his name pathetically.

“Marc—!”

“See?” He circles your entrance with deft fingers, the rough stubble on his face rasping against your cheek. “So ready.” Your eyelids go slack, your head lolling back against Marc’s shoulder as he presses two thick fingers into you, moaning low. “Soft and sweet and ready…” You don’t even think he’s talking to you, now, mumbling to himself—no, to Jake and Steven, probably—about his enjoyment of your body, how good you feel, how much he wants you. Marc scoffs at a comment you didn’t make, confirming your theory.

“Made for us, huh?” Marc draws a line with the tip of his claw over your nipple, and you feel his lips curve against your throat. “Maybe so.” He grips the back of your head with one hand, the other still buried in your cunt as he kisses you again, hungrily swallowing the whimpering moan you try and fail to contain. He sucks on your tongue, running the sharp points of his canines along it before releasing you.

“Steven says you’re made for us.” He watches your face with pale yellow eyes, enjoying the look of dizzy bliss you know is there. You whine when he thumbs at your clit, your eyes rolling as you clamp down around his fingers. He grins.

“I think he might be onto something.” Everything you know is turned on its head now—everything is real, because how do you know it’s not? Gods and Monsters, the veil is open, forever torn for you now, and you see them all.

“Maybe so,” you run your tongue across your lips and he follows the movement with rapt attention. “Or maybe you were made for me.”

He laughs.

Marc scissors his fingers inside you as you go to pieces. Happy, it seems, to shoulder your weight because your trembling legs will not do so on their own. He alternates between sucking at your pulse point, and mumbling heated, possessive promises into the curve of your jaw. You feel each word as he says it, maybe even a little before, his lips moving against your skin.

“You feel so good, Baby, m’gonna feel you on my cock next,” You’re too gone to be embarrassed by the wet sucking noise your cunt makes when he pulls his fingers out, watching as he lifts them to his mouth, deftly cleaning each one with long strokes of his tongue. It’s almost enough to make you forget where you are, what you’ve done.

What you’ve become.

You aren’t like him, but you aren’t like you anymore, either. You see the words in your minds eye even when Loki’s book isn’t before you, feel the weight of them on your tongue days before you speak them. No, you are changed.

It’s why you need this as much as Marc does—it’s the only thing you can control.

“Hands on the wall, Baby.” You brace your palms against the wall as he nudges your thighs wide with his knee, pulling the waistband of your pants down to your thighs. You can’t help but arch back a little as he slides his cock through the soaked and swollen folds of your cunt, moaning your name. The low, guttural appreciative sound he makes as he sinks in is almost as good as the burning stretch of his entry. You arch, pushing back against him until he’s seated all the way inside, his hips pressing tight against the curve of your ass.

“Fuuuck.”

You’re blissfully full, stars dancing behind your closed eyes and then—Christ—he starts to move. Marc grips your waist with both hands, holding you good and still. Your fingers scrabble against the concrete wall, teeth sinking into your lip as he drives into you, pulling nearly all the way out before filling you completely again.

Maybe Steven’s right, you think, as Marc wraps one hand around your throat, pulling you flush against his chest. Maybe I was made for them. It certainly lends credence to his theory, the way your body fits perfectly into the hollow of his like this, his cock filling you so completely that there’s barely even room for breath. The hand on your hip drifts to your belly, pressing down as he slides back in. His lips curve against your ear.

“Think I can feel me in there?” He asks, before pressing down harder. You writhe against him, your body hot. “Maybe if I press harder…” Marc holds you like that for a while, pressing down on your belly with one hand as he ruts into you, growling. You’re practically a mess by the time he begins to work at your clit with his thumb, circling it softly.

“M-Marc, fuck,” You grit his name out as you cum again, twitching pathetically in his arms. Marc’s head falls back, his eyes closed as he revels in the feel of it, you clenching around his cock like a vise. He presses in deeper, a and fuck, you hadn’t even known he could. And you feel his teeth—blunt now—press hard into your neck as he spills inside of you, the warmth of it making you shudder.

He stays like that, his teeth buried in your throat while he pants, fingers flexing on your hips.

Marc cleans you up, sacrificing a portion of what little water you are allotted to clean the mess he’s left between your thighs, and you return the favor, before laying down heavily on the cot. Marc curls around you, placing his body between you and the door.

—

“She’s not going.” Jake has placed himself between you and Mikhail, his arms crossed. “She’s not well.” You aren’t. You’ve been… wrong since your reading the night before, your head swimming with symbols, and a man with a bird skull for his head; bleached white like it had been baked in the unforgiving desert sun, tall enough to move the moon across the sky. Your nose is still bleeding sluggishly, too, you taste copper when you lick your lips. No, not a man—a God.

KHONSU.

Why do you know his name?

“This is not a debate.” Mikhail sneers. He’d come alone today, unlike every other time he had been sent to fetch you. Loki didn’t take chances when it came to security, you’d learned that by now. So why was he here? Alone?

“Loki wants her.” He jerks his head at you, blue eyes dark over Jake’s shoulder when he meets your gaze. “Move, freak.” Perhaps he doesn’t know the difference between the three, or maybe he just doesn’t care, but a lump forms in your throat when Jake squares his posture, fingers curling into tight fists.

“What, you going to fight me in chains?” He mocks. “I said move.”

“No.”

You’re expecting more of Mikhail’s smug condescension—not for him to ball his meaty fingers into a fist and punch Jake. His head snaps to the side, and you watch a satisfied smirk spreads across Mikhail’s face in response. He tries to shoulder past in that moment, using Jake’s surprise as an avenue around him.

You hear the sick sound of bone crunching as your brain struggles to understand what you’re seeing. Mikhail’s arm is broken, hanging limply at his side, while Jake stands over him, his lip curling.

“I see how you look at her.” He kicks him, and Mikhail looses a pathetic whine as the breath is driven from his lungs. “Patético.” He squats down, gripping Mikhail’s short, blond hair.

“Let go—fucking stop!” He shouts, and finally, you hear the guards clamoring at the end of the hall.

“The fuck is going on down there?!”

“You hear that?”

It doesn’t deter Jake though, as he cocks back and drives his fist into the other man’s face hard. His eyes are dark, jaw set tight. The muscles in his back tense and flex as he draws back again, and the spray of blood that coats his face as Mikhail’s nose breaks this time coats Jake’s face, flecking his skin with thick drops of red. He licks his lips before bringing a sputtering, gagging Mikhail’s head level with his own. His eyes are red and crossed with burst vessels, nose smashed in and lips burst open.

“Fuck you!” He screams, his voice cracking with pain. “You and your fucking whore—”

“You think I don’t know what you were planning? What you were going to do?” Jake asks, cocking his head like he really wants to know the answer. “March her out of here, take her someplace nice and quiet,” Jake pauses, spitting on the ground beside Mikhail. “Asqueroso de mierda.” Fucking pig.

“Quiero que sepas que eres un muerto viviente. Entiendes? You’re done.” You’re a dead man. I want you to know now, understand? So when it comes later, it isn’t a surprise. Jake doesn’t let go, not even as the sound of frantic footfall grows closer, only seconds away, now. “So when it comes, it isn’t a fucking surprise.”

The guards storm into the room, shouting, weapons drawn. There’s so much blood, Mikhail’s bones are sticking up through the ruined meat of his arm, not to mention his face. Loki follows, his face contorting with anger.

It takes Rumlow pressing his pistol to the back of Jake’s head to make him stop, to make him let go so they can drag Mikhail out of the room as he wails, cursing the both of you. You can tell Loki wants to punish him—punish both of you—but he needs you. You to read the book, to be the conduit he can’t be, and Jake to partake of the sacrifice, to consume the flesh and appease the God whose power they’ve stolen.

And Mikhail needs medical attention.

Loki settles for roughing Jake up a little, the guard team taking turns until he’s had enough, waving his hand to call them off. To his credit, Jake looks fairly unfazed, despite the physical evidence otherwise.

“Perhaps housing the two of you together was a mistake.” He replies, and you scowl at him.

“Kidnapping people for your fucked up rituals was a mistake.” You reply, and he laughs.

“How cute.” Loki’s slow smile sends a shiver down your spine. “You still think you’re people.”

They don’t come that night—too busy with Mikhail, you expect.

Which is good, because Jake Lockley is nothing if not an opportunist. You wake as he’s fitting your knees over his shoulders, gazing up at you hungrily from between your thighs, his black honey voice rumbling in your ears.

“Ábrelas pa’ mi.” Open for me. There is utter silence around you, no footsteps, no quiet conversation from the end of the hall. For the first time in weeks—months—you are truly alone.

So there is no one to hear the rising cacophony of your voice as Jake sets to work between your thighs, his tongue lashing against your clit, and fingers prodding eagerly at your entrance. Your eyes roll, a breathy moan worming out from your throat. You can’t help yourself from rocking your hips against his face, and Jake smirks, his lips curving against your cunt.

“Te sientes bien, nena?” Feel good, Baby?

“U-uh-huh,” you nod dumbly. Your unfocused eyes stare unseeingly at the dark ceiling, one hand tangled in his messy curls just to have something to hold on to. Jake groans when you pull, his fingers pressing into the softness of your thighs as he holds you still. There’s a hunger, a desperation in his touch that is markedly different from the way Marc, or Steven does.

Like he knows he may never get another chance.

You arch up off the cot, and Jake’s palm cracks against your thigh in warning.

“Still.” He cuts his eyes at you from between your thighs. “No hagas que me repita.” Don’t make me say it again.

He devours you until you’re trembling, toes curling as you cum with a wail. Jake’s fascination with your cunt is obsessive, the way he maps every inch with his tongue, checking the lines with his fingers just in case. He rolls his tongue against your clit, chuckling darkly when you convulse. When he’s finally had his fill, Jake rises from between your legs, wiping your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand.

For a moment, he just looks at you, studying the lines of your body and committing each one to memory. You feel strangely vulnerable laying there beneath him, not because this is the first time—it isn’t, and at this point you’ve lost count—but because you realize this is the first time any of them has ever seen you fully naked since the first time, not just with your shirt rucked up beneath your chin, or your joggers pulled down around your thighs.

You reach for Jake, kissing him and tasting yourself on his lips and tongue as he fits his hips between your thighs like a puzzle piece. The full body shudder that erupts is impossible to hide as his cock slides against you. Jake grins down at you.

“Esto es tuyo, déjamelo darte.” That’s yours, Querida. Let me give it to you.

The thick, rigid length of him takes up every inch of available space inside you at this angle; and Jake glories in it, pressing your thighs apart and back, muttering silent curses as he throws his head back. He pulls out, quickly filling you again with a wet, vulgar noise that would’ve embarrassed you had you the capacity to consider it, but you don’t, not when Jake is looming over you. He isn’t an emotive man, not even a particularly talkative one, but like this… He practically sings.

“Shh. I want to see if I can get in any deeper. I know you’d like that.” Your cunt squeezes down around him as if in response, and Jake chuckles. He slides his hands down your thighs like he’s holding you steady as he presses in. Once he’s in as far as he can get, his hips fitted against yours almost too tightly, there isn’t room in you for breath, let alone thought. And whichever words do make it into your head simply just… come out of your mouth, even if they’re just half formed.

“Sh-shit, Jake—what’re you—fuck—!” Luckily for you, he’s not really listening anyway, his dark eyes focused on the slick mess between your legs, but you can’t stop the train now that it’s started, whiny, needy pleas falling from your lips without your say-so. Jake cups your chin, dragging his thumb across your parted lips.

“Stick out your tongue, baby—mierda, así mismo-!” fuck, yes, like that-! Jake squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger before leaning down to suck on your tongue as he slams into you, groaning. Your head is spinning, eyes wide and glassy as your lover places his index and middle fingers on the flat of your tongue.

“Chúpame.” Suck. You obey immediately and without complaint, closing your mouth around his fingers. Jake moans so low it sounds almost like a growl, his fingers digging into the meat of your hip as his eyes roll shut. He thrusts in hard and you gag around his fingers, whimpering. They’re slick with your drool when he pulls away, thick strands of it connecting the tips of his fingers to your puffy, kiss swollen lips. It’s like the sight inspires him, and he takes them again, furiously devouring every gasp and moan you release as he continues to fuck you.

Every single one of your nerve endings is writhing with pleasure, a veritable ocean of it overwhelming you as you’re swept away beneath it. Jake is everywhere, his hands on your face, your hips, your breasts, your cunt—in your fucking mouth—you don’t know how to process it all.

You’re cumming before you realize it, choking out a curse as you press your face, your teeth into the side of his neck. His cock spasms inside of you only moments after, sticky warmth oozing out of the place where you’re joined as Jake presses his forehead against yours, eyes closed. After a few seconds, he collapses to the side, sliding out of you only for an instant before he pulls you against his chest. You shiver as he slips back in just as easily.

The next words he speaks are uttered quietly into your hair.

“Can we sleep like this, querida?” His fingers trace patterns on your skin. “Please.” You don’t ask why—you don’t need to.

“Yeah,” you nod against his chest, and he pulls the blankets up around your shoulders. “Okay, Jake.” He presses a kiss to the space between your shoulder blades, and as your world fades to black, you feel his lips moving against your skin, mouthing the words he won’t say out loud.

—

“King of crossroads

Travelers and Thieves

Accept this offering, accept his flesh and blood as penance—”

Blood streams from your nose as you read the Word, coating your lips and dripping down your chin. You can taste it in your mouth as you form each syllable. Your skull feels like it’s about to split open—there’s not enough room inside for infinity, after all. You see yourself spread out like a series of mirrored reflections in every direction, in every lifetime.

You read the book in every century, you worship the God of Moons and mirrors at sacred altars raised high above the chaos below and profane ones, hidden in in the deep, secret places. You are a thousand you’s who have come before, whose blood stains the pages like yours does—

As you read, he eats.

You barely hear the screams anymore—it’s so hard to hear them, over the noise of a thousand thousand lifetimes—but in your doubled, tripled, infinite vision, sometimes you see it.

The thing in your lovers’ skin, the jackal-thing, tears the arm from a crying man, but you cannot smell the blood. Your nostrils are still full of incense from somewhere else, but you hear the sickening sound of splintering bone, gore staining the jackal-thing’s wide maw. It turns unfocused, yellow eyes on the guards in the outer circle of the ritual room, snarling. Distantly, you suppose you are aware of the sound of straining metal, stone cracking as he, they, it, strains to reach them, it’s long arms outstretched.

“Stop.” Loki’s voice is eons away. He shakes you—you don’t feel it. Your eyes don’t even stray from the page. “Stop, I said!” The commands blur into insignificant background noise, you cannot hear Loki now, because He is here. You can feel him, turning his attention to you as his power flows in through your soul and out through your mouth. And when He slips in to look through your eyes, His disgust makes your own lip curl.

UNWORTHY.

Loki slaps you then, his palm cracking across your cheek, snatching the book from your hands. The last few syllables die out on your tongue as he snaps it shut. You stand there, dazed and blinking at your empty hands. Slowly, you bring your hand to your face, sweeping the tips of your trembling fingers through the sticky wetness just above your lips, and they come away dark red.

Below you, the beast strains to reach the soldiers still. You squint at the links connecting the collar at its throat to the anchor set deep into the concrete—are they stretching? As you think it, there’s a metallic snap as it bursts, affording the creature another foot forward. It strains at the two on it’s arms, pulling with all its might.

You know you don’t have long before he reverts, before the bones begin to crack again, turning skin to ragged meat as his body changes again—

You cannot let that happen.

Loki doesn’t expect you to lunge for the book, to drive your shoulder into his chest as hard as you can. The air rushes out of his lungs, and he stumbles back, cursing breathlessly.

“What the fuck are you doing—”

You snatch the book from his limp fingers. Book is an exaggeration for the stack of loosely bound, frayed papyrus you hold in your hands, between two carved slabs of soapstone. It practically hums against your skin as you hold it now. You will decide which parts you read.

“You have no idea what you’re doing!” Loki snarls, staggering toward you. “Give me—”You step back just as the second chain breaks, leaving only one. Someone shoots, a bullet passing through the meat of the jackal-thing’s shoulder, but the wound closes up before your eyes, knitting back together till there’s nothing a there but short wiry fur and a few drops of blood.

“Boss!” One of the guards calls up to Loki from below. “He’s—”

The final chain snaps, and the beast looses a triumphant snarl. “Shoot!” Loki screams. “Fucking shoot it!” You watch, horrified as the rain of bullets tear into its flesh, chunks of stinking, steaming meat littering the floor by its feet. It doesn’t seem to care, luminous yellow eyes fever bright with bloodlust. The ragged holes in its flesh close almost as instantly as they appear, bone and sinew mending back together as the soldiers scream. You watch as it tears one of their arms out of the socket, its wide jaws frothy with blood and spittle as it crunches through the raw, red meat of it.

“Kill him!” Loki is screaming, the remaining guards flocking to him as the beast, the jackal, tears through the men in the sacrificial circle. “Fucking shoot him!” The carved stone beneath them is slick with blood, the whole room stinks of it, hot copper and fresh meat. Their boots slip against it as they struggle to escape, many of them having fired their entire clips into his unwavering chest.

The words flow from your mouth like electrical current, bypassing your brain as your tongue forms words you’ve never heard before, words that leave your head buzzing and ringing. There’s pressure behind your eyes, in your skull, a full feeling that leaves blood leaking from both your nostrils. The text becomes one word, a single word, and you know the book has changed to meet its maker’s will, the one who speaks through you now, whose clear moonlight burns at your insides and streams out of your mouth as the words singe your tongue.

DEVOUR.

You both feel and do not feel Loki press the cool muzzle of his pistol to the back of your head.

“Stop. Fucking. Reading.” He seethes, pulling back the hammer.

You wouldn’t even if the choice was still yours, but you don’t tell him that. You can’t, not with your throat full of the most ancient of magics. He pulls the trigger, and you feel the bullet burn against your skin—but it does not penetrate. Instead, it falls to the floor at your feet, rolling until it falls down into the gory mess below. He’s behind you, but you can see him anyway—the moon is a mirror, and all mirrors are your eyes—his face ashen, blinking as he fires again, and again, and the bullets all fall uselessly away like pebbles.

“We need to go!” Rumlow is covered in blood, his face bearing the marks of the beast’s displeasure. “Fucking now!” He racks another round into his gun as he barrels up the stairs. Behind him, your monster is making short work of the three remaining guards on the lower floor. “If she wants to stay here and burn her-fucking-self to ashes, let her! There’s always another voice, ain’t that what you said?” Loki nods, casting you a dirty look. “Let’s go!” as it stands there in the pile of steaming gore, it lifts its shaggy head up toward the moon framed in the skylight, and howls.

“We need the fucking book!” He argues. He steps towards you, like he means to pry your fingers from its smoking pages, but he reels back, screaming. A monstrous hand the size of a butterfly net bursts through Rumlow’s bulletproof vest, and somehow you can hear the wet sound of the merc’s body trying to function around the intrusion—a wet, sucking noise—before he drops to the ground, still.

The jackal-thing steps over him. The dark fur around its mouth is flecked with bits of meat, and it runs its tongue along its muzzle in obvious anticipation of more. But instead of advancing on your fleeing captors, it turns to you, fixing you with those terrifying eyes.

COME.

DEVOUR.

COME.

DEVOUR.

The God steps into you as one might shrug on a too small coat, steadily and aggressively working his way into your body, filling you like a helium balloon. The same presence you’d felt when you first touched the book overwhelms you now, and more burning light pours from your eyes as he peers about the room with indisputable anger. The voice that comes from your mouth is not yours, is not human.

It is the sound of sand, of tides, of ages and of cold fire.

“YOU WHO HAVE ABUSED MY POWER.” White fire pours from your lips, dripping down to the floor to pool like liquid. You do not take a step forward, Khonsu does, and the stone cracks beneath your combined weight. “YOU WHO HAVE SLAIN THE INNOCENT. WHO HAVE ENSLAVED THE PRIESTS OF MY HOUSE.” They run then, making for the doors, but neither you, nor Khonsu feel the need to chase them.

It makes no difference.

“YOU WILL BURN.”

You lift your hand, and you feel the jackal’s blood slick fur against your palm as he leaps at your command. The halls are filled with a veritable symphony of pleading and screams as his jaws find them—or you do.

Loki makes it all the way to the vehicles, dragging a broken leg behind him as the two of you follow closely behind. It is more satisfying than you can admit as you wrap your fingers around his throat, his flesh blackening and peeling away as you lift him.

“My hand was forced,” you say, grinning as the realization dawns . “But you will never force it again.”

He doesn’t have vocal chords left to scream with as he burns.

You know it when Loki dies, because you feel all the power go out of you, your body crumpling like a doll. He’s gone, the God, the ancient thing wearing your skin to exact his vengeance. You feel like an empty glove, and you lay there in the sand as the garage burns behind you, smoke curling into the dark night sky. The shape of his presence remains within you, though, and your spirit rushes back in to fill the space.

Exhilarated, giddy exhaustion fills you, hell, you feel like you might even be high. You’re flying, your blood singing with the echoes of the power of ancients, even as you lay there, your body exhausted.

The jackal-thing approaches you, yellow eyes bright as it covers your body with its own. You’re barely clothed now, the signed remains of your tank-top and joggers easy enough to strip off. You feel magnetized, like you have to touch and be touched, like the energy thrumming in your veins needs their help to release. And by the impatient, possessive way the jackal-thing looks at you, you gather they feel much the same.

The beast snuffles at your hair, and then licks at the space above your collarbone, huffing. You whimper when his teeth break skin, arching your back against his chest. There’s a deep rumble that sounds almost like Marc’s laughter before it looses a growl, laving at the blood-sticky skin of your throat.

His tongue laps at the blood between your breasts, and you hiss, your nipples peaking stiffly. You aren’t afraid, not of him—of them. You don’t know that you’re really afraid of anything anymore, not when you have but to speak for the ancient power to fill you like a water balloon.

Claws press at your soft skin, goosebumps rising in their wake as you feel his grip tighten around your waist. He wants you on your belly. You know it instinctively, like the knowledge had come from your own head, and not from elsewhere.

You whine as he pulls away, but you roll over, your hands slipping in the sand. They don’t wait for you to position yourself fully, tugging you back against the creature’s furry hips, it’s sticky, pink cock pressing insistently against your already slick folds. It feels like fireworks are popping off beneath your skin, and you can hardly contain your joy.

They’re dead. Not just dead but punished, and you are free.

Free.

Your mouth opens as he slams inside, the throbbing knot at the base of his cock forces you open even further and you let out a breathy wail. You suppose you should be ashamed, afraid, you should be a lot of things—but what does that even mean, now? Now that you are this? What even are shoulds in the face of what you have weathered?

The jackal-thing looses a pleased growl, rutting into you with sharp, hungry thrusts. They soon punch not only the air from your lungs but the thoughts from your head, your eyes rolling as you fall forward onto your forearms. He bears down on you with singleminded insistence, carving space out from within you that you know you’ll feel later.

“Oh God, oh God, Jake.” You mumble their names amidst streams of nonsense into the crook of your arm as the pleasure condenses into an aching point in your belly. “M-Marc, p-please, I need—S-Steven—” Teeth close around the meat above your collarbone, and you let out a wail that echoes across the dark sand as you cum fitfully. If not for the possessive hands at your hips holding you in place, you’d have fallen flat on your belly onto the sand. Instead, you twitch and whine in his hold as his cock throbs heavily inside your slick, spasming cunt, flooding you with sticky heat. There’s so much of it you can feel it leaking out of the place where you’re joined, dripping down the backs of your thighs.

When you try to move, the jackal-thing growls at you, and you resolve to stay still, at least for a little while. You can feel it’s tongue move against the wound, laving it slowly, lovingly. He pulls out of you, and there’s a sickening crack as his body begins to revert again. You sit gingerly on the remains of your joggers and close your eyes as you wait for silence.

You hate this part—you know it hurts.

Soon, though, there is skin pressed against your back instead of wiry fur, and when you venture a glance over your shoulder, Steven looks back at you, bloody and exhausted.

“Hello, Love.”

—

You know you’re grinding blood and viscera into the luxurious white carpet as you enter Loki’s rooms, but the mess only brings you a giddy sort of satisfaction. There is so much blood—so many bodies. You’d stopped counting Loki’s sacrifices, and you find yourself wondering if the bodies number the same—if somehow they cancel one another out. Part of you hopes they do, that the scales will at least be balanced, if not weighted in your favor. But there is another part of you, a new part—but somehow ancient at the same time—whispers dark words of reassurance that you can barely discern from the background noise of your own thoughts.

They deserved it. Vile murderers, usurpers—

Their deaths were too merciful.

The suite looks like something out of a magazine, like a five-star hotel come to the goddamn desert. There’s even air-conditioning. He had lived above you in luxury for months—you don’t even know how long, not really—while only floors below the two of you had been kept in terror and squalor.

It would have been laughable if you hadn’t had to live through it yourself.

It doesn’t occur to you that you’re destroying things until the first bottle of expensive cologne becomes victim to your cold, unthinking rage as you grab it off of the dressing table and lob it into the mirror. You watch the pieces of glass burst and shatter into uncountable fragments. For a moment, you see your own bloody face reflected back at you before it crumbles. It’s unbelievably satisfying. So much so that you pick up something else—a watch, a fucking rolex—and hurl that too. Golden springs roll away underneath the dresser as the pieces shoot off in all directions

Steven doesn’t say anything as you grab the heavy looking table-clock too, and beat it into pieces against the table’s surface.

You stand there, panting in the aftermath of your rage, a trail of destruction leading across the room. Steven pulls you into a tight embrace, and you sob into his chest, openmouthed and wailing. You had watched as the beast had slaughtered everyone—and and it was right to do it. As somehow, it—they?—had kept every promise made.

Mikhail’s ruined throat, the beast feeding you warm, slick pieces of Loki’s beating heart—

So why aren’t you whole yet? Why do you still feel like a piece of you has been carved out, lost forever? Replaced with something ancient? Unknowable? You cling to Steven, terrified that if you loose grip on him, you’ll loose your tenuous hold on reality. He lets you cry, stroking your head and mumbling soft affirmations into your hair until you’re only sniffling, instead of sobbing brokenly against his skin. When you’re ready to, you pull away, and rub the back of your bloody hand across your face.

He tucks a finger under your chin, those big, dark eyes of his swirling with emotions you cannot hope to name.

“Let’s get cleaned up, shall we?” He asks with a weak smile. “Can’t go back to civilization looking like we killed people.”

“We did,” you say, looking down at the dried blood staining your palms. There is a soft voice that curls up like smoke from the darkness at the edges of your thoughts, sounding so much like your own that you aren’t entirely sure it isn’t you thinking it—They deserved it. They deserved justice.

Steven’s smile falters. “They would have killed us, Love.”

“I—I know. I know. They deserved it.” Your fingers curl into righteous fists. You remember the hail of bullets at the dig-site, every screaming, pleading person Loki forced down the beast’s throat, and those thoughts curdle the self doubt sitting in your belly. The God’s booming voice echoes in your memories.

UNWORTHY. USURPERS. KILL THEM ALL.

“They deserved it.”

You explore Loki’s bedroom, the press of a button unlocking an equally luxurious bathroom. You’re stripping before you realize it, the ragged, dirty clothes you’d been wearing discarded on the tile floor. The water is hot as soon as you turn it on, and when you step gratefully under the spray, you nearly begin to cry again. You haven’t bathed properly in months—you don’t even know how long you’ve been here. Steven steps in behind you, and the two of you stand beneath the rainfall shower head, watching red swirl down the drain.

Steven takes such care with you, you almost worry he thinks you’ll break, shampooing your hair, detangling the thick curls with his fingers. You relax against him, the muscular planes of his chest pressed against your back. He rinses the suds from your hair and skin, cupping water over your head. You let him.

As the ash and blood wash from your skin, you discover new scars, ones you could not even hope to notice in the dim light of your cell. It’s like you’re rediscovering yourself, relearning what you look like, who you even are. You feel like a different person now, than the one who’d been brought here, her head bagged, wrists zip-tied—

No, you are someone else now, someone else entirely.

Steven cups water over the bite mark on your shoulder, and you hiss at the sting of it. He doesn’t stop though, pressing an apologetic kiss to the skin between your shoulder blades as he cleans your wound.

“Made a right mess of you, he did,” Steven replies. “Eager bastard.”

“Well, it’s not like he can kiss me,” you say, and Steven laughs.

“I-I think I can fix that,” he says, his voice thick with sweet, eager confidence. You fear for an instant that some spark of the earlier fire still remains inside of you, but as Steven caresses the curve of your jaw lovingly, you do not feel the all consuming fire—you just feel him.

He presses kiss after kiss to your lips until they’re parted and swollen from his attentions, his firm hand on your chin holding your head steady as he works. Steven only stops when you’re dizzy and panting, fingers scrabbling against his slick skin as you try to hold onto him. He pulls you down onto his lap on the shower bench, groaning as his cock presses against your cunt.

“F-fuck, Steven,” the words are gasped against his throat as your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders. “God-!” He holds your hips steady, the two of you rocking against each other. How does this feel more intimate than when he’s actually inside you, his cock sliding through your slick folds with audible noise, his other hand tangled in the curls at the nape of your neck with his face pressed to the side of your throat. You’re eager for more contact—desperate for it, even, but he keeps the pace frustratingly slow and steady.

“Used to dream about when we’d get t’do this—patience, Love—with no one bloody watching.” Steven rocks his hips into yours, and you pressing sloppy, needy kisses of your own against the skin of his neck and shoulders, and you feel his hips buck against you as he chuckles.

“Fuck, you little minx.” He grips your wrists behind your back with one large hand, forcing you to arch against him. He groans before leaning down to tug one of your nipples between his teeth. ”Fine pair we make.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask, fighting to keep the words even as he wraps his lips around the other nipple, and your toes curl. “And what pair is that?” Steven releases you with a pop, and then releases you so he can squeeze your breasts together, admiring your swollen, puffy nipples.

“The voice and the vengeance, of course,” he says, pressing another kiss to the skin between your breasts. You moan and shiver as the leaking head of his cock pushes hard against your entrance, your clit rubbing deliciously against the base. He teases the both of you, pressing until his head’s almost inside, and then pulling away again until you’re panting, hips straining uselessly against his firm hold.

“Steven please,” you whine his name pathetically. “I-I want to cum—!” Steven nods at you, his face the perfect picture of understanding.

“I know, Sweetheart. I know you do. A-and you’re gonna, I promise. As soon as I think you’re ready, m’gonna let you cum. Can’t force things—he was rather…” He pauses, like he’s searching for the right word. “Rough with you earlier.” You know you should appreciate Steven’s consideration, his mindfulness of the fact that you’d already them lay claim to your body—your shoulder still bears the stinging bite mark the jackal had left on you. Instead, you let out a frustrated whine at his words, attempting to force yourself down onto his cock. Steven clucks his tongue at you, before pausing, and then he chuckles.

“Marc says we should make you wait extra long for that.” He lifts your hips easily despite your efforts, moving you back and forth across his tip. He lowers you just enough that the head of his cock pops inside, and you mewl, clenching down around him. “But since you feel so fucking good inside, I’m not gonna do that.”

Steven’s head lolls back against the tile and he thrusts shallowly, teeth sinking into his lip before he pulls you off again. This time, he guides you to the bench before sinking to his knees on the floor of the shower. Steven spreads your legs wide, tugging you to the edge before kissing you.

“Let me make you feel good,” Steven mumbles against your mouth. “Wanna make you feel good, Love.” He trails wet, sloppy kisses down the side of your jaw and between your breasts, mumbling praises against your wet skin. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” Steven sighs, pressing another to the skin above your cunt. “So perfect.” You whine as he peels your thighs apart, tossing your legs over his shoulders.

“You don’t have to be quiet anymore, Love,” he says, glorying in the shrill whine you loose as he drags his finger through your folds. “So let’t hear it.” Where Jake and Marc are hungry, eager, Steven is diligent. Methodical. He sucks on your clit, working his tongue against it with slow, deep strokes that leave you gasping, your thighs clenching around his curly head.

“God, fuck, Steven,” sentences are a chore to form, so single words have to suffice as you tangle your fingers in his hair just as his own circle your entrance deliciously. Your hips undulate against his face, your eyes closed. The orgasm takes you by surprise, your thighs trembling as pleas, praise and curses all fall from your lips in equal measure, and you aren’t sure which ones you mean.

“Fuck, yes Steven, feels so good, fuck-fuck-fuck, please—” You’re a simpering, weak-limbed mess when he finally releases you, your legs like jelly. It takes little maneuvering to get you back into his lap again, and this time, Steven wastes no time. He positions you above his cock before dropping you down, letting gravity help him fill you. It punches the air from your lungs in a sharp exhale.

You can barely focus on breathing though, not when he feels like this inside of you. The fullness is delicious, leaving you gasping when he repeats the motion, lifting you until his head’s almost out, and then dropping you back down again, but still desperate for more. More that Steven wants to give you, more that you don’t know you can take, but that you’re more than willing to try. Your cup runneth-the-fuck-over with pleasure, throbbing on every nerve ending, choking out every other thought.

“Oh, Love,” he groans, rolling his hips into yours. “There it is.” Steven’s hips buck against yours; short, teasing thrusts that stimulate, but don’t fulfill. Finally, he sheathes himself in you to the hilt, his hips bucking softly against you like he’s looking for more space inside where there is none. The mark from where they’d bitten you as the jackal is still there, humming with power. Steven laves his tongue against it, moaning, savoring the coppery taste of your blood on his tongue.

“God,” Steven gasps against your skin, holding you close and tight, curving his hips up into yours with increasingly desperate thrusts. “F-fuck, you’ve no idea—” You’re not sure if he’s sputtering out a response to Marc or Jake, but you don’t really have the spare capacity to consider it. Not when Steven is whispering feverish praise and promises into the curve of your throat, and then making good on them with every thrust.

“Feels s-so good , fuck, want you to cum on my cock—!” He’s almost as bad as you, mumbling possessive nonsense as he slots his teeth into the marks the beast left behind. Briefly it occurs to you that he shouldn’t be able to, but then Steven grinds his thumb against your clit and the electricity of it makes you think pointedly of other things. Like the way his body feels against yours, and you’re close, so fucking close—Your knees tighten around his hips, digging into his sides but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care.

With a whine and a shudder, you go boneless in Steven’s arms, your eyes rolling as the fireworks become bombs, become supernovas, and your cunt clamps down around his throbbing cock like a slick, wet fist. Steven kisses you, and you taste your own blood on his lips as he slams you back down, holding your hips still and in place as he cums too.

“Mmm, yeah, mmmfuck,” his head is leaned back against the tile, curls plastered against his skull from the water. Steven stares unseeingly at the shower head above you, holding you tucked against his chest as he fills you. You rest your head against his chest, your own heaving.

Steven finally releases his death grip on your hips in favor of drawing shapes against the skin of your back. You’re not eager to move and neither is he, keeping you caged comfortably against his chest. There are scars here too, old ones, healed over and almost gone, new ones, fresh, pink wounds you know will leave still more.

You catalogue them, listing each one as your fingers travel across his skin. Chest. Stomach. Forearm. You don’t even realize you’re doing it, not really, not until you feel Steven’s lips curve against your hair.

“What’re you doing, Love?”

What am I doing?

You remain silent and thoughtful as Steven helps you off of him, murmuring assent when he asks if he can clean you off. It’s not until you’re getting out of the shower, watching him toweling off, counting the scars on his back—that you realize.

“I’m cataloguing.” You say, laying a hand on his back. Steven jumps.

“What?”

“I’m counting them. Your scars.” You lick your lips. You know you can’t take them away, you can’t erase them—but you can avenge them. Loki’s network is vast—your lips curl into a small smile. Was vast. Now it is rudderless, a snake without a head. You will dispose of the rest of it. The dark fury in your head feels righteous, and when your eyes meet Steven’s, they are bright with the same.

“I want to pay them back.”

fin

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